Vanity 
Square 


Edo- 


ar  Saltus 


VANITY  SQUARE 

A  STORY  OF  FIFTH 
AVENUE   LIFE 


BY 
EDGAR  SALTUS 


PHILADELPHIA     AND     LONDON 

J.  B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY 
1906 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
Published  in  May,  1906 


PART    I 

THE  MAN  WHO  DID  NOT   EXIST 


VANITY   SQUARE 


i. 


V\7HEN  the  last  guest  had  gone, 
Uxhill,  with  a  yawn  of  boredom 
unrelieved,  dropped  in  a  chair. 

"Add  six  zeros  and  see  what  they 
come  to.  Add  sixty.  Add  six  hundred. 
The  result  is  the  same.  They  amount 
to  nothing." 

He  looked  at  the  ceiling.  It  was 
charming.  Cupids  sprawled  there,  laugh 
ing  idly  at  the  carpet  beneath.  He 
looked  at  his  wife.  She,  too,  was  charm 
ing.  Although  the  mother  of  a  big-little 
girl,  she  seemed  a  girl  herself.  He 
looked  about  the  room.  It  was  charming 
also,  long  and  wide,  fitted  with  things 
harmonious.  They  bored  him. 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  Nothing,"  he  repeated.  Gloomily  he 
considered  his  fingers.  "  Instead  of  pot 
tering  away  in  New  York,  we  might  be 
in  Cairo,  in  Java,  in  Peru.  But  you  won't 
go  anywhere.  Supposing  we  do  happen 
to  have  a  few  pennies.  Every  one  else 
has.  They  are  the  essentials  of  exist 
ence.  But  without  something  more, 
something  to  take  you  out  of  yourself, 
they  have  the  value  of  zeros.  String 
them  out  all  you  like.  The  sum  total  is 
nothing." 

Maud  Uxhill  got  from  her  seat.  Her 
not  going  anywhere  must  have  been  an 
exaggeration.  In  any  event  it  could  not 
have  included  the  dressmaker.  Her 
frock,  the  color  of  fried  smelt,  was  dis 
tinctly  ruedelapaixian.  She  kissed  the 
palm  of  her  hand  and  waved  it  at  him. 
Then  down  the  room  she  sauntered. 

Uxhill  watched  her.     She  had  the  face 

of  a    fay,   the  waist   of  a  willis,   hair  of 
4 


VANITY   SQUARE 

burnt  orange,  and  vesuvian  eyes.  At 
a  piano  presently  she  was  strumming 
something,  a  strain  sweet  and  sad  and 
slow,  haunting  and  cloying,  one  that  sug 
gested  a  minuet  of  lovers  who  already 
are  ceasing  to  love. 

For  a  moment  it  detained  his  thoughts, 
then  vaporizing  them,  it  took  him  back 
years  before  to  the  torrid  August  day 
when  from  his  yacht  he  had  landed  at 
the  hot  little  village  on  the  Massachu 
setts  coast,  met  her,  wooed  her  violently, 
and  on  that  yacht  of  his,  like  a  pirate, 
had  carried  her  away. 

The  rapture  of  the  midsummer  high- 
wayry  lay  in  his  memory,  green  as  the 
ocean  and  relatively  just  as  strong.  It 
had,  too,  its  proper  and  relieving  touch  of 
the  grotesque,  the  consternation  of  a 
cleric  further  down  the  coast,  noisily 
awakened  at  midnight  to  wed  them, — a 
tall,  pale,  white  old  man,  who,  in  the 


VANITY  SQUARE 

shadows  of  candles  suddenly  arranged, 
looked  like  a  ghost  with  a  stomach-ache, 
and  whom  Uxhill  bundled  through  the 
service  with  a  haste  which  he  denounced 
as  "positively,  sir,  indecent." 

That,  though,  in  view  of  his  cloth  and 
its  indulgence,  ultimately,  no  doubt,  he 
forgave.  To  forgive  is  always  easy. 
But  it  is  particularly  easy  to  forgive 
youth  and  beauty  ardent  and  rash. 
Only  ardent  youth  and  rash  beauty  are 
not  afterward  invariably  so  forgiving  to 
themselves.  What  is  worse,  occasionally 
there  are  others  still  more  unrelenting. 

Maud's  father,  a  cleric  himself,  a 
bishop-to-boot:,  a  Massachusetts  bishop  ; 
Bishop  Upjohn,  whose  people — when 
such  people  were — believed  in  witches 
and  burned  them,  too,  would  have  none 
of  Uxhill.  Uxhill's  name,  a  trifle  un 
usual,  was  at  the  start  against  him.  Had 
it  been  Brown  now,  or  Jones  or  Robin- 


VANITY  SQUARE 

son,  or  even  all  three,  it  may  be  that  the 
bishop  would  not  at  the  time  have  caught 
on,  and  if  later  he  did  get  his  bearings, 
why,  then,  in  the  interim,  instead  of  the 
"I  disown  you"  which  he  flung  after  his 
daughter,  the  girl  would  have  had  his 
blessing  and,  all  things  being  possible, 
his  prayers  for  the  best. 

But  Uxhill  had  figured  in  press  ac 
counts  of  certain  social  and  highly  uncivil 
proceedings  that  now  and  then  occur  in 
the  upper  circles  of  New  York  life.  In 
so  figuring  he  had  been  represented  as  a 
man  about  town,  which,  without  being 
quite  sure  of  our  Latinity,  we  may  as 
sume  is  a  loose  fish ;  he  had  been  further 
represented  as  etcetera  and  so  forth, 
which  cover  whatever  you  like,  or,  as  it 
happened  in  this  case,  everything  that 
the  bishop  particularly  abhorred. 

The  bishop,  sharp-sighted,  was  hard 
of  hearing.  Uxhill  had  been  in  the  vil- 


VANITY  SQUARE 

lage  four  days  and  in  and  out  of  the 
bishop's  house  forty  times  before  the 
latter  got  his  name  straight.  When  he 
did  point  blank  he  let  fire.  "Are  you 
the  man  who  and  so  forth  etcetera?" 

Uxhill  admitted  that  he  was  the  man, 
but  denied  that  he  was  etcetera  and  so 
forth.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  was  not. 
That,  though,  for  the  moment  is  a  detail. 
It  was  not,  however,  a  detail  to  the 
bishop.  It  was  an  aggravation.  When 
he  saw  a  statement  in  print  he  believed 
it.  We  are  many  of  us  quite  like  him. 
Believing  what  he  had  read  and  regard 
ing  the  denial  as  on  a  par  with  the  rest, 
"  What,  then,  may  I  ask,"  he  immediately 
and  menacingly  inquired,  "is  the  object 
of  your  visit?" 

"Your  daughter,"  was  Uxhill's  un- 
emollient  reply. 

The  bishop,  flaming  and  furious, 
showed  him  the  door,  a  very  pretty  door, 


VANITY  SQUARE 

the  prettiest  in  the  village,  one  well  worth 
being  shown.  But  Uxhill  did  not  stop 
to  admire.  Straight  out,  his  head  in  the 
air,  he  marched.  On  the  other  side  was 
Maud.  It  was  then  the  highwayry  oc 
curred.  Without  a  thing  save  the  clothes 
on  her  back,  and  the  "I  disown  you" 
flung  after  like  a  slipper,  violently  he 
carried  her  off  and  that  night,  the  indig 
nant  cleric  in  the  shadows  and  candles 
officiating,  made  her  his  own. 

It  was  all  like  some  predatory  swoop 
of  a  Barbary  bey,  hallowed  only  by  the 
brief  mad  wooing  of  the  lovely  girl  who 
had  loved  Uxhill  as  suddenly  and  as 
insanely  as  he  loved  her. 

As  the  strain,  haunting  and  cloying, 
that  told  of  lovers  who  are  ceasing  to 
love,  drifted  from  the  piano  to  him,  it 
must  have  stirred  a  memory,  awakened 
an  echo.  The  recollection  of  the  rapture 

returned.     Time  had  not  dulled  it.     He 
9 


VANITY  SQUARE 

still  loved  the  girl  who  had  loved  him. 
Better  even  than  before.  But, — for  a  but 
there  is  always. 

Epictetus,  who  knew  a  good  deal  more 
than  most  of  us,  said  that  we  should  wish 
things  to  be  as  they  are.  The  majority 
of  us  want  things  to  be  as  they  are  not: 
There  is  the  main  source  of  common 
boredom,  individual  exasperation,  and 
general  progress.  It  is  foolish,  but  it  is 
human.  Uxhill,  who  was  a  poet  and 
consequently  unfitted  to  balance  himself 
on  the  tight-ropes  of  philosophy,  rebelled 
at  life,  or,  more  exactly,  at  the  life  to 
which  circumstances  had  condemned  him. 
However  censorious,  we  cannot  blame 
him  for  that.  The  metropolitan  existence 
of  a  man  of  means  and  no  occupation  is 
the  most  maddening  that  civilization  has 
devised, — a  form  of  earthly  damnation  in 
which  you  are  forced  to  consort  with 

people  who  have  scandals  and  stocks  for 
10 


VANITY  SQUARE 

sole  topics,  and,  what  is  worse,  for  sole 
joys.  Uxhill  abominated  it.  Like  a  bull  in 
a  stall  with  garlands  on  his  horns,  instead 
of  blood,  he  felt  that  from  the  heath  he 
had  been  banished.  He  complained  of 
it.  His  complaining  did  not  stop  there. 
His  sister,  a  lady  who  had  married  the 
last  of  the  Gemine,  and  who  lived  with 
her  prince  abroad,  jeered  at  him  for  a 
stick-in-the-mud.  He  knew,  or,  what 
amounts  to  the  same  thing,  he  thought 
he  knew,  that  the  jeer  was  deserved. 
The  chef  in  his  kitchen,  the  footman  in 
the  hall,  the  grooms  and  the  horses  in 
the  stable,  weaned  him.  He  was  tired  of 
the  whole  lot.  But  what  irked  him  most 
was  his  durance  in  the  precinct  in  which 
he  lived,  and  which,  with  Central  Park  on 
one  side,  Madison  Avenue  on  the  other, 
Seventy-second  Street  for  frontier,  and 
the  Plaza  for  approach,  is  colloquially 

known  as  Vanity  Square. 
11 


VANITY  SQUARE 

And  so  it  fell  about  that  his  house, 
together  with  the  life  that  he  led  in  it, 
bored  him,  and  of  that  boredom  he  com 
plained. 

He  complained,  though,  to  indolent 
ears.  Maud,  innately  epictetian,  was  sat 
isfied  with  things  as  they  were.  Other 
lands,  other  scenes  with  adventures 
concomitant  might  be  agreeable  or  the 
reverse,  she  had  no  wish  for  them.  The 
easy,  uneventful  routine  of  her  days  con 
tented  her  completely.  She  was  happy 
in  it,  and  that  happiness  radiated  from 
her  in  the  serenity  of  unalterable  smiles. 

You  cannot  fight  very  well  with  people 
who  won't  fight  back.  Against  cheerful 
ness  complaints  are  impotent.  Con 
scious  of  which,  Uxhill,  homesick  for  the 
windy  heath,  for  the  bold,  roving  life  of 
wild  beasts,  bellowed  in  his  stall,  but  he 
bellowed  at  a  ceiling  on  which  cupids 

sprawled. 

12 


VANITY  SQUARE 

The  cupids  paid  no  attention  to  him. 
Maud  paid  none  either.  At  his  initial 
fractiousness  she  had  tried  to  argue.  It 
was  just  what  he  wanted.  It  was  no 
trouble  to  him  whatever;  on  the  contrary, 
it  was  a  pleasure  to  prove  to  her  that 
two  and  two  make  five,  which  perhaps 
after  all  they  do.  Discerning  which, 
thereafter  she  kissed  a  hand  at  him  and 
sauntered  away. 

Women  are  the  very  devil,  he  an 
nounced  to  the  cupids  on  discovering 
how  he  was  being  led.  But  the  an 
nouncement,  though  true,  was  not  other 
wise  of  any  value.  It  did  not  alter  a 
situation  which,  being  wholly  to  Maud's 
liking,  she  omitted  to  disturb. 

At  first,  before  the  big-little  girl  was 
born,  they  had  gone  out.  To  Uxhill  it 
was  the  thing  to  do.  But,  when  the 
child  came,  Maud  let  go.  She  had 
supped  on  society,  she  declared.  By 

13 


VANITY  SQUARE 

that  time  Uxhill,  too,  had  had  his  fill.  He 
had  become  quite  domestic,  and  not  as 
some  men  are,  in  the  homes  of  other 
people,  but  in  his  own.  He  preferred  it 
to  any  other,  and  so  preferring,  preferred 
also  to  have  Maud  to  himself. 

At  this  preference  a  woman  less  in 
love  would  have  been  annoyed,  a  woman 
more  worldly  would  have  been  alarmed. 
Both  would  have  known  that  men  weary 
of  all  dishes,  particularly  of  the  best, 
especially  when  served  at  each  meal. 
But  that  fact,  however  commonplace, 
Maud  did  not  grasp.  In  her  past  ex 
perience  there  had  been  nothing  to  pre 
pare  her  for  it.  The  accessories  and 
surroundings  of  her  girlhood  had  been 
too  Puritan  for  such  epicureanism.  To 
her  father  it  would  have  been  just  so 
much  Coptic.  The  girl's  mother  had 
long  been  dead ;  she  was  without  sisters 
or  brothers,  and  her  friends,  although 

14 


VANITY  SQUARE 

Bostonians  and  therefore  supposedly 
learned,  were  winsomely  ignorant,  as 
winsome  girls  should  be,  that  one  can 
have  ever  a  surfeit  of  sweets.  Then 
also,  though  the  Puritan  flower  trans 
planted  bloomed  with  fresh  beauty  in 
Vanity  Square,  and  although  the  flower 
united  in  itself  every  sort  of  suave  per 
fume,  serenity,  sympathy,  sweetness,  and 
strength,  yet  that  odor,  a  trifle  heady, 
which  we  call  worldliness,  this  Massa 
chusetts  rose  never  exhaled.  It  was  her 
great  defect,  one  that  directly  precipi 
tated  the  drama  which  these  pages  un 
fold. 

Meanwhile,  that  preference  of  Uxhill 
neither  annoyed  nor  alarmed.  On  the 
contrary.  Of  her  many  pleasures  the 
chiefest  was  the  fact  that  he  had  no  other 
occupation  than  herself.  In  Wall  Street 
he  had  a  big  box  to  which  he  went  in 
frequently,  and  from  which  laboriously  he 

15 


VANITY  SQUARE 

cut  coupons.  That  practically  was  his 
sole  toil.  In  Rhode  Island,  where  he  was 
born  and  where  his  predecessors  had  ac 
cumulated  a  very  large  fortune,  he  and 
his  sister  had  interests  which,  conven 
iently,  were  managed  for  them.  Other 
wise  he  had  no  business  or  pursuits. 
Maud  liked  that.  She  liked  to  feel  that 
thus  it  would  be  always,  into  the  remot 
est  future,  until  they  both  were  dead. 

So  it  was  that  she  loved  a  life  which 
to  a  woman  more  worldly  would  have 
been  unendurable.  In  its  uniformity  was 
its  charm.  In  winter  there  was  this 
house  in  the  upper  sixties.  In  summer 
there  was  a  villa  on  the  sea.  Maud's 
ambition  did  not  extend  beyond  the  mo 
notony  of  those  dual  homes.  The  crum 
pled  roseleaf  of  her  life  had  come  when 
at  the  monotony  he  had  rebelled  and 
tried  to  persuade  her  that  they  would 
both  be  better  off  in  some  place  other 

16 


VANITY  SQUARE 

than  where  they  were.  But  with  the 
conservatism  of  a  woman  who  really 
loves  she  shrank  from  fresh  fields,  from 
the  distracting  forms  and  faces  there. 
Now  and  then  she  had  people  in  to  dine. 
Now  and  then  she  and  Uxhill  dined  out. 
Apart  from  that  nothing  there  was  to 
disturb  the  closely  guarded  atmosphere 
that  she  loved  save  only  the  roseleaf, 
latterly  crumpled  afresh  each  day  and 
each  day  smoothed  anew. 

When  this  drama  begins  she  was 
smoothing  it  again  with  a  slow,  cloying 
air  from  which  now  at  last  little  quiver 
ing  bubbles  of  gayety  emerged,  and,  as 
her  fingers  strayed  from  one  strain  into 
another,  a  woman  with  gimlet  eyes,  tall, 
angular,  prim  as  a  Puritan  Sunday,  ap 
peared  at  the  drawing-room  door. 

Maud,  without  staying  the  notes,  beck 
oned  her  with  an  uplift  of  the  chin. 

-What  is  it,  Nora?" 

2  17 


VANITY  SQUARE 

The  woman  bent  to  her,  whispering 
something.  She  had  been  her  nurse, 
now  she  was  nurse  to  her  child. 

Maud  looked  over  at  Uxhill,  motioned 
Nora  away,  stood  up,  followed  her.  But 
presently  she  reappeared. 

" Gerald,"  she  said  in  the  low,  sweet 
voice  that  was  hers,  "ring  up  Sayce. 
Mowgy  is  ill." 


18 


II. 


TV/TO WGY  was  in  a  little  bright  bed. 
She  was  six  years  old.  Her  hair, 
the  color  of  ripe  chestnuts,  was  abundant. 
Her  eyes  of  porcelain  blue,  charged  ordi_ 
narily  with  question-marks  and  mischief, 
now  were  troubled.  Their  long  lashes 
drooped  heavily. 

The  room,  large,  high-ceiled,  gave  to 
the  south  and  west.  Opposite  the  bed 
was  a  mantel  on  which  roamed  a  herd  of 
elephants  in  ivory,  guarded  by  minute 
ivory  men.  Beneath  was  a  doll-house 
that  contained  many  things,  infinitely 
precious,  which  Mowgy  allowed  no  one 
but  herself  to  touch.  Nearby,  in  little 
chairs,  a  harem  of  dolls  sat  upright. 
They  were  all  very  dear,  as  a  rule,  very 
good,  and,  according  as  Mowgy  regarded 

19 


VANITY   SQUARE 

their  behavior,  so,  in  turn,  were  they  re 
warded  by  sharing  her  bed.  But  they 
must  have  all  misbehaved  that  day. 
There  were  none  of  them  with  her. 

That  afternoon  she  had  returned  from 
the  park  listless,  without  appetite  for 
bread  and  butter ;  symptoms  of  which 
Maud,  who  had  been  out,  was  ignorant. 
But  not  Nora.  When  Maud  did  return, 
she  had  to  hurry.  There  were  guests 
that  evening.  Later,  the  guests  gone, 
the  symptoms  accentuating,  the  alarm 
was  given.  Then  shortly  Sayce  came. 

Sayce,  general  practitioner  in  Vanity 
Square,  had  a  face  in  which  there  was 
not  a  line,  a  profusion  of  white  hair,  a 
skin  of  brick,  and  an  air  of  such  immate 
riality  that  you  would  have  said  a  breath 
and  he  would  blow  away.  He  was  a 
great  friend  of  the  Uxhills.  He  was  a 
great  friend  of  everybody.  Without 
being  a  wizard,  he  understood  himself; 


VANITY   SQUARE 

what  was  better,  his  patients.  When  the 
latter  were  little  people  he  added  to 
these  advantages  the  further  ability  of 
understanding  their  parents.  It  takes  a 
physician  to  do  the  one,  a  psychologist 
to  do  the  other.  Sayce  boasted  he  was 
both.  But  the  boast  was  always  attenu 
ated  by  the  admission  that  he  was  not 
infallible.  In  the  present  instance  he 
was  uncertain.  Methodically  but  swiftly 
he  had  examined  the  child. 

"Perhaps  but  a  cold,"  he  announced 
to  Uxhill  and  Maud,  indicating  as  he  did 
so  the  usual  remedies,  recommending  the 
usual  precautions,  displaying  the  usual 
smile. 

"Goodnight,  Mowgy,"  he  added. 

But  the  child's  thoughts  were  occupied 
with  other  things  than  civilities. 

"When  I  grow  up  will  I  be  sick  and 
disagreeable  and  married?  "  she  anxiously 
asked. 

21 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  Not  if  you  go  to  sleep  and  take  now 
what  Nora  gives  you." 

"  And  to-morrow  may  I  play  with  my 
dollies?" 

"To-morrow,  if  you  lie  very  still  and 
don't  talk,  you  may  do  anything  you  like," 
Sayce,  in  his  uncertainty,  answered. 

But  diphtheria  was  very  prevalent  just 
then.  The  possibility  of  it  he  disclosed 
to  the  Uxhills. 

"In  which  case,"  he  resumed,  as  they 
passed  from  the  room,  "I  will  get  you 
Miss  Sixmith,  who  knows  quite  as  much 
as  I  do;  in  some  things,  more." 

"  Sixmith  !  "  Uxhill  repeated.  "  Is  she 
any  connection  of  the  Canadian  scien 
tist?" 

"His  daughter." 

"  But—" 

"I  know.  A  man  like  that!  How 
is  it  that  his  daughter  is  a  trained  nurse  ? 

Everybody  asks  the  same  thing.     But  he 
22 


VANITY   SQUARE 

is  dead,  and  he  died  bankrupt.  Bacteri 
ologists  are  not  financiers." 

"  He  left  nothing,  then  ?  " 

"Not  even  his  title.  For  the  British 
Government  made  a  peer  of  this  man — 
who  had  none,  in  his  own  particular  line  ; 
that  is,  save  perhaps  Pasteur.  But,  as  he 
had  no  male  heir,  the  title  lapsed. 
Though,  by  courtesy,  his  daughter  is,  of 
course,  the  Honorable  Miss  Sixmith. 
You  would  not  suspect  it,  however.  She 
is  a  plain-spoken  girl,  without  airs  or 
pretences.  She  knows  her  duties  and 
attends  to  them." 

"  Ugliness  and  antiseptics  una 
dorned,"  said  Uxhill.  "I  can  see  her 
and  I  can  smell  her  from  here.  But 
perhaps — " 

"  Perhaps,  as  you  say,"  Sayce  interrup 
ted,  "you  may  be  spared  the  infliction. 
I  shall  know  better  shortly.  Did  you 
hear  about  Besalul  ?  " 


VANITY   SQUARE 

They  had  reached  the  hall  below,  where 
a  footman  was  helping  the  physician  with 
his  coat. 

Sayce,  buttoning  his  gloves,  continued  : 
"The  day  before  yesterday,  Besalul  came 
in  with  Madame  from  a  drive.  She  went 
upstairs.  He  looked  over  an  evening 
paper.  The  butler  announced  dinner. 
Besalul  sent  him  after  Madame.  The 
butler  could  not  find  her.  Nobody  has 
been  able  to  since.  How  ?  Why  ?  You 
know  as  much  as  I  do.  Jones  told  me 
about  it  at  dinner." 

"  Yoda  Jones  ?  "  Maud  asked. 

"Yes,  he  and  I  were  dining  together 
at  the  Athenaeum  Club." 

"When  you  see  him  next,"  said 
Maud,  "  tell  him  that  he  neglects  me 
shamefully." 

"  I  shall  abuse  him  for  it  properly,"  the 
physician  answered. 

Then  he,  too,  vanished. 

24 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"I  know  Besalul,"  Uxhill  announced 
as  he  and  Maud  reentered  the  drawing- 
room.  "  He  is  just  so  much  buttered 
toast  and  he  married  some  mush-and- 
milk  from  Cleveland." 

"What  a  delightful  union,"  Maud  ab 
sently  replied. 

"The  point  is  that  the  milk  appears  to 
have  turned.  I  suppose  it  wanted  a 
change.  By  the  way,  a  change  might  do 
Mowgy  good." 

"Yes,  dear,  we  will  see  what  Sayce 
says  to-morrow.  But  I  must  go  to  her. 
You  stop  here.  I  will  be  back  in  a  little 
while." 

Like  the  Besalul  of  the  tale,  Uxhill 
gathered  up  an  evening  paper.  It  bored 
him.  He  threw  it  down,  entered  the 
dining-room,  a  charming  extension  of 
the  charming  house;  rummaged  about, 
found  a  cigar  and  lit  it. 

o 

The  lighting  occurred  before  a  mirror 

25 


VANITY   SQUARE 

that  ran  up  from  the  floor  between  two 
wide  windows.  In  it  he  looked  at  him 
self.  What  he  saw  was  superiorly  satis 
factory.  Without  being  good-looking,  he 
was  good  to  look  at, — tall,  bright,  obvi 
ously  high-strung.  Even  in  the  colorless- 
ness  of  evening-dress  he  had  an  air  of 
polished  peremptoriness,  the  appearance 
of  one  accustomed  to  be  immediately 
obeyed.  That  appearance,  joined  to  his 
manner,  which,  when  not  earnest,  was 
urbanely  contemptuous,  had,  in  the  bad 
buccaneer  days,  effected  plenty  of  execu 
tion. 

But  since  the  final  highwayry,  this  cor 
sair,  who  in  earlier  nights  had  written  a 
sequence  of  sonnets  that  is  quoted  still, 
had  become  so  tame  that  the  bishop,  had 
he  known,  might  perhaps  have  forgiven. 
The  elopement  had  been  simply  out 
rageous.  Time,  though,  is  a  great  emol 
lient.  But,  Boston  and  New  York  are 

26 


VANITY   SQUARE 

fully  five  hours  apart.  The  bishop  had 
little  affection  for  trains  and  less  for 
Vanity  Square.  Having  disowned  his 
daughter,  he  stuck  to  it,  salving  his 
conscience,  if  he  had  a  conscience,  by 
wondering  occasionally  whether  she  had 
repented.  Before  he  found  out,  other 
and  more  momentous  matters  ensued. 

Coming  events,  we  are  told,  cast  their 
shadows  before.  But  it  is  wrong  to  be 
lieve  everything  we  hear.  Destiny  has 
no  messengers,  or,  if  it  have,  it  does  not 
use  them.  It  is  too  cruel  for  that  or  too 
kind.  As  Uxhill  turned  from  the  mirror 
he  was  as  ignorant  as  the  bishop  of  what 
the  morrow  held.  He  knew  only  that 
the  day  was  tedious.  The  substance  of 
it  was  expressed  in  the  six  zeros  at  which 
he  had  flouted.  Their  nothingness  irked. 
With  the  imagination  from  which  the 
sonnets  had  resulted,  he  compared  him 
self  to  a  pot-au-feu  with  wings.  At  the 


27 


VANITY   SQUARE 

epoch  when  the  verses  were  shaping 
themselves  he  had  sailed  the  ^gean, 
skirted  Paphos,  visited  Cytherea,  loitered 
among  the  lovely  shrines.  Latterly  they 
had  been  claiming  him  and  this  not 
because,  to  put  it  delicately,  he  was  con 
templating  any  migratory  system  of  do 
mestic  experiences,  but  simply  and  solely 
because  he  was  bored.  We  always  want 
what  we  lack.  The  hour  was  not  remote 
when  he  was  to  look  back  on  the  tran 
quillity  which  induced  the  boredom  as 
life's  full  delight. 

Even  then  it  was  departing.  That 
night  Mowgy  grew  worse.  Shortly  there 
after  the  suspicion  of  Sayce  was  con 
firmed.  Toxaemia  appeared,  diphtheria 
with  it;  Miss  Sixmith  as  well. 


III. 


TT  is  the  opinion  of  moralists  that  when 
a  girl  has  succeeded  in  being  good- 
looking  she  has  fulfilled  every  duty  in 
life.  This  opinion  was  one  which  the 
Honorable  Miss  Sixmith  made  it  very 
obvious  that  she  did  not  share.  When 
Uxhill  first  saw  her  he  was  conscious  of 
a  new  conception  of  beauty.  His  trained 
eye  followed  her.  But  to  such  things  she 
was  used. 

The  fact  that  her  appearance  was  un 
common,  even  as  a  child,  strangers  turn 
ing  after  her  on  the  street  had  made  her 
aware.  It  had  made  her  aware,  too,  of 
the  pleasure  of  long  meditations  before 
the  looking-glass  that  showed  back  the 
perfect  profile  of  her  perfect  face.  In 

these  meditations  she  got    at    times    so 
29 


VANITY   SQUARE 

close  to  the  glass  that  the  vapor  of  her 
breath,  obscuring  it,  hid  her  from  herself. 
She  rubbed  it  off  and  looked  again. 

The  pleasure  was  too  puerile  to  en 
dure.  But  admiration,  always  ambient 
and  sometimes  audible,  she  trailed  as  a 
torch  trails  smoke.  It  gratified  her 
greatly  until,  as  she  matured,  it  provoked 
advances, — attempts  at  acquaintance  so 
odious  that  when  she  went  out  unaccom 
panied  she  went  veiled,  forced  to  hide 
her  beauty  as  though  instead  of  a  glory 
it  were  a  shame. 

These  things  she  confided  to  Maud, 
not  at  once  but  much  later,  when  Mowgy 
was  convalescent  and  the  community  of 
the  sick-room  had  made  the  two  women 
friends.  During  the  progress  of  the  dis 
ease,  up  to  and  over  its  crisis,  she  had 
thought  for  nothing  but  the  child,  tending 
her  with  a  solicitude  which  Maud  herself 
could  not  have  exceeded ;  with  a  compe- 

30 


VANITY   SQUARE 

tence  which  Sayce  had  not  forecast ; 
tending  her  wearilessly,  sleeping,  when 
she  had  to  sleep,  like  a  dog  on  guard,  with 
one  eye  open ;  it  may  be  with  both. 

The  attack,  brief  but  vicious,  finally 
was  repulsed.  Such  danger  as  there 
had  been  retreated,  leaving  Mowgy  like 
a  little  battlefield,  devastated  but  secure. 
Yet  the  honors  of  victory,  titularly  Sayce' s, 
all,  except  Nora — unmollifiably  jealous 
and  therefore  profoundly  distrustful — ac 
corded  to  this  girl,  who  had  behaved  like 
a  hero  and  who  looked  like  a  saint. 

It  was  then  only  that  she  found  time 
to  tell  Maud  a  little  concerning  herself, 
among  other  things  that  her  name  was 
Stella. 

1  'It  suits  you/'  said  Maud.  "It  de 
scribes  you.  Besides  there  is  music  in  it. 
In  choosing  a  name  for  a  girl  parents 
should  think  of  the  lover  who  will  one 
day  pronounce  it." 

31 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"I  hardly  fancy  that  my  parents  gave 
much  thought  to  that,  and  it  would  not 
have  mattered  much  if  they  had." 

The  girl's  voice  was  bell-like  in  clarity. 
As  she  spoke  she  looked  about  the  room. 
It  was  Maud's  room,  a  very  charming 
room,  fitted  with  delightful  things,  among 
which  was  a  silver  bed.  It  seemed  to 
please  her. 

«  But  Maud,  with  that  interest  which  all 
women  take  in  the  interests  of  other 
women,  particularly  when  they  are  beauti 
ful,  persisted. 

"  Surely  you  will  meet,  if  indeed  you 
have  not  already  met,  some  one  who — " 

Miss  Sixmith  smiled,  displaying 
glimpses  of  teeth  small,  firm,  white  as 
white  paper. 

"  It  is  the  calling  of  most  girls  to  meet 
that  some  one,  to  marry  and  bear  chil 
dren.  Were  it  otherwise,  life  would 
cease.  But  I  have  a  different  vocation. 

32 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Without  being  presumptuous,  I  hope,  if 
I  may,  to  continue  my  father's  work." 

"That  will  be  very  fine.  No  doubt 
you  will  succeed.  But  I  think  that  love 
alone  brings  happiness." 

Again  there  was  a  glimpse  of  those 
teeth.  "  My  father  used  to  say  that  hap 
piness  was  not  meant  for  us,  that  we  are 
souls  in  the  guise  of  animals,  and  there 
fore  unfitted  for  it." 

Of  this  conception  of  things  Maud 
would  have  none.  Like  a  fly  she 
brushed  it  away.  "  I  am  happy.  You 
have  helped  to  make  me  so.  The  way 
you  pulled  Mowgy  out  is  a  thing  which 
Uxhill  and  I  can  never  repay." 

"  I  did  but  my  duty,"  the  girl,  rising  as 
she  spoke,  replied. 

Though  not  tall,  she  seemed  so. 
Though  nobody,  she  impressed.  The 
regulation  costume  which  she  wore  was 
not  unbecoming,  but  it  jarred.  In  it  she 

3  33 


VANITY   SQUARE 

suggested  the  passionless  abbess  of  some 
passionless  priory  dressed  for  a  masque 
rade.  The  quality  of  her  beauty,  per 
fectly  and  coldly  austere,  as  true  beauty 
ever  is,  was  humanized,  however,  by  her 
eyes,  luminously  blue,  and  by  her  smile, 
which,  when  she  wished,  was  one  of  rare 
seduction. 

"Don't  go,"  Maud  pleaded.  "I  love 
to  look  at  you.  Your  face  is  so  un 
usual." 

"  Unfortunately,  yes." 

"  Unfortunately !  How  can  you  say 
so?  Do  sit  again  and  tell  me." 

It  was  then  the  confidences  were  made. 
At  their  conclusion  Maud  had  a  remedy. 

"While  you  are  with  us  I  will  go  out 
with  you,  and  Uxhill  shall  follow  with  a 
stick.  By  the  way,  he  has  been  complain 
ing.  He  says  that  since  you  have  been 
here  he  has  seen  you  but  twice.  I  con 
soled  him  by  saying  that  you  were  to 

34 


VANITY   SQUARE 

dine  with  us  to-night.  I  shall  send  Ade 
laide  to  you  to  help  you  dress." 

Adelaide  was  the  maid,  and  presumably 
a  very  good  one.  But  the  girl  would 
have  none  of  her. 

"Thank  you,  I  have  got  on  too  long 
alone  to  need  assistance  now.  Besides, 
my  one  evening-dress  is  easy  enough  to 
fasten." 

"And  very  becoming,  too,  I  am  sure." 

Maud  was  right.  Though  a  black 
dress  it  was  becoming.  But  everything 
became  her.  In  it,  with  her  lithe  arms 
and  bare  neck,  she  needed  but  a  shower 
of  diamonds  to  have  suggested  the  ideal 
Astrafiamente,  who,  as  you  may  re 
member,  was  Queen  of  Night.  Yet  that, 
of  course,  was  because  of  the  wearer. 
A  plain  girl  in  a  gown  so  plain  would 
have  seemed  even  plainer.  The  simple 
severity  of  it  set  Stella  off.  When  she 
entered  the  drawing-room,  Uxhill,  who 

35 


VANITY   SQUARE 

had  fed  on  entrancing  apparitions, 
blinked. 

"To  look  at  you,  Miss  Sixmith,  one 
should  have  smoked-glasses." 

Stella  utterly  ignored  the  remark.  It 
was  perhaps  a  trifle  fade.  She  turned 
to  Maud.  But  at  once  a  diversion  was 
supplied.  Dinner  was  announced.  At 
a  glance  the  girl  already  had  taken  in  the 
things,  costly  and  futile,  with  which  the 
drawing-room  was  filled.  Before  she 
was  seated  in  the  dining-room,  every 
thing  there,  the  lustres,  the  gold  and 
silver  service,  the  tulipwood  sideboard, 
the  perfectly  appointed  table,  the  butler 
in  hierarchic  black,  the  undermen  in 
livery,  everything  was  as  quickly  ab 
sorbed. 

"We  have  been  having  such  a  learned 
talk,"  Maud,  in  her  low,  sweet  voice,  an 
nounced.  "Miss  Sixmith  says  we  are 
souls  in  disguise." 

36 


VANITY   SQUARE 

In  Uxhill's  glass  a  servant  was  pour 
ing  red  Hungarian  champagne. 

"  That  is  rather  an  optimistic  view, 
don't  you  think?" 

Stella's  glass  which  the  man  was  at 
tempting  to  fill  she  covered  with  her 
hand. 

"  I  meant  to  say  souls  in  the  guise  of 
animals.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  major 
ity  of  people  get  through  life  very  much 
as  brutes  do, — in  a  sort  of  torpid  sleep. 
They  do  not  appear  to  know  where  they 
are  going, — or  to  care.  All  they  require 
is  to  be  comfortable.  That  is  so  degrad 
ing.  Besides,  they  are  very  tedious,  par 
ticularly  in  conversation." 

Uxhill  laughed.  "  They  are,  indeed. 
Especially  in  Vanity  Square.  A  lot  of 
damned  nobodies,  talking  about  nothing. 
That  is  my  opinion  of  them." 

"  Not  damned,"  Stella  corrected,  "  but 
ignored.  God,  I  am  sure,  does  not  know 

37 


VANITY   SQUARE 

that  they  exist.  To  God  they  have  the 
significance  that  ants  have  for  us.  What 
ants  do  we  do  not  know,  we  do  not  care. 
In  relation  to  the  Infinite,  humanity  is  just 
as  obscure.  God  surely  is  unaware  of 
our  existence.  Otherwise  there  would 
be  no  pain,  no  poverty.  He  would  not 
let  sorrow  and  suffering  be." 

Uxhill  leaned  forward.  "Without  be 
ing  indiscreet,  Miss  Sixmith,  was  that 
your  father's  idea?" 

"  My  father  used  to  say  that  it  is  very 
unimportant  what  we  do ;  that  what  alone 
imports  is  what  we  become.  He  used 
also  to  assign  as  a  reason  for  our  in 
ability  to  see  things  as  they  are  to  the 
fact, — but  forgive  me,fa6vse." 

"But  we  are  immensely  interested!" 
Uxhill  exclaimed.  "What  is  the  rea 
son?" 

"  That  we  are  asleep  in  a  prison." 

To  that,  though,  Maud  objected. 

38 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  A  very  agreeable  prison,  then.  Per 
sonally  I  would  not  exchange  it  for  a 
palace." 

Uxhill  laughed  again.  "  Yes,  there  is 
the  devil  of  it.  Maud  has  not  yet 
awaked.  I  have.  I  don't  mean  by  that 
that  as  yet  I  am  suited  for  the  life  eternal, 
but  I  do  feel  that  I  am  not  suited  for  the 
infernal  existence  which  one  leads  in  New 
York,  where  you  are  baked  in  summer, 
frozen  in  winter,  and  bored  to  death  all 
the  year  round." 

To  this  Miss  Sixmith  assented.  "  It  is 
certainly  very  tiresome  not  to  have  any 
thing  to  do." 

"Yes,"  said  Uxhill,  "it  is  as  bad  as 
trying  to  be  comfortable." 

A  servant  was  approaching  with  a  tray. 

"What  is  that?"  he  asked. 

"A  letter,  sir." 

"  I  never  read  letters.  Give  it  to  Mrs. 
Uxhill." 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  It  is  for  me  as  it  is,"  said  Maud,  when 
the  note  reached  her.  "  Do  you  mind?" 
she  continued  to  Stella.  Then,  after  read 
ing  it,  she  added,  "  It's  from  Grace 
Amsterdam.  She  wants  us  to  dine  on 
Wednesday." 

"The  day  after  to-morrow!  Some 
body  has  backed  out.  Tell  her  we 


can't." 


"  Patmore,"  Maud  asked  of  the  butler, 
"is  anyone  waiting?" 

"  Yes,  mem." 

Maud  stood  up.  "I  shall  have  to  send 
her  a  line."  She  turned  to  Stella. 
"You  will  forgive  me,  won't  you  ?" 

A  swish  of  silk.     She  had  gone. 

Again  Uxhill  leaned  toward  the  girl. 

"  Maud  has  lost  her  heart  to  you.  So 
have  I.  I  have  been  urging  her  to  go 
abroad.  If  she  consents,  will  you  join 


us?" 


Stella,  with  her  starlike  eyes,  looked  at 

40 


VANITY    SQUARE 

him,  at  his  empty  glass,  then  across  the 
room.  It  was  her  answer,  or,  rather,  her 
rebuke,  one  which  a  girl  more  mondaine 
might  have  omitted. 

But  Uxhill,  with  his  polished  perempt- 
oriness,  persisted.  Once  more  she 
looked  at  him  and  once  more  away. 
Before  progress  were  possible, — if  pos 
sible  it  were, — Maud  reappeared. 

"  I  told  Grace  that  we  have  people  to 
dine.  That's  you,"  she  added  to  Stella. 
"  Now  tell  me  do  you  care  for  music?" 

"  I  know  I  ought  to.  But  I  don't.  Not 
in  the  least." 

Uxhill  threw  his  head  back. 

''Then  one  thing  is  certain,  you  have 
never  loved." 

"And  I  never  shall,"  the  girl  distantly 
replied. 

"It  is  such  a  pity,  too,"  said  Maud. 
"Why,"  she  exclaimed  with  a  prettily 
affected  indignation,  "you  are  just  the 

41 


VANITY    SQUARE 

kind  of  a  girl  a  man  would  feel  like  cut 
ting  his  throat  for." 

"  Yes,"  said  Uxhill,  looking  as  he  spoke 
into  those  starlike  eyes,  "  and  when  a 
man  does  not  feel  that  way,  he  has  no 
feeling  at  all." 

Further  platitudes  followed.  Courses 
succeeded  each  other.  Sweets  came  and 
went.  Finally,  under  pretext  of  leaving 
Uxhill  to  smoke,  Maud  took  Stella  away. 
But  though  in  the  dining-room  they 
left  one  man,  in  the  drawing-room  they 
found  another. 


IV. 

'  I  ^HE  dining-room  was  in  an  exten 
sion,  because  of  which,  because, 
too,  of  intervening  portieres,  those  who 
happened  to  be  there  could  not  hear  any 
thing  that  might  be  occurring  elsewhere 
in  the  house.  It  was  for  this  reason  that, 
on  preparing  to  vacate  it,  Maud  and 
Stella  were  unaware  that  on  leaving  one 
man  they  were  to  meet  another. 

But  others  knew.  As  they  entered  the 
drawing-room  a  voice  announced, — 

"  Mr.  Jones." 

Whereat,  inaudibly,  with  the  silent 
tread  that  felines  and  acrobats,  who  have 
good  shoemakers,  share,  there  entered 
one  who  had  gray,  determined  eyes,  an 
unmoustached,  determined  mouth,  a  face 

43 


VANITY   SQUARE 

of  bull-dog  tenacity,  and  a  bandbox  air. 
The  fastidiousness  of  his  evening-clothes, 
a  fastidiousness  recognizable,  however, 
only  in  the  mere  modelling  of  them,  yet, 
nonetheless,  denoting  prolonged  medita 
tions,  contrasted  curiously  with  the 
strength  that  he  exhibited  and  the  vigor 
that  he  exhaled. 

In  the  bad  buccaneer  days  he  had  been 
a  pal  of  Uxhill's.  Since  the  transplanting 
of  the  Massachusettian  rose  he  had  be 
come  her  servant,  spreading  always  and 
openly  before  her  feet  the  mantle  of  his 
admiration.  Professionally  he  was  a  law 
yer,  in  training  for  the  Bench.  Person 
ally  he  was  an  athlete  never  out  of  trim. 

"Yoda,"  said  that  rose,  in  her  low, 
sweet  voice,  giving  him  a  hand,  the  wrist 
of  which  he  raised  and  over  which  he 
bent. 

She  turned  to  Stella,  introducing  him. 
Then  at  some  memory  she  laughed. 

44 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"Make  her  your  best  bow,  do, — the 
one  I  like." 

"It  might  alarm  Miss  Sixmith,"  he 
answered,  and  looked  at  the  girl.  But 
her  appearance  reassured  him. 

Backward  to  the  further  end  of  the 
room  he  ran,  ran  forward,  touched  the 
carpet  lightly  with  his  hands  and  as 
lightly  tossed  a  somersault,  landing  a 
few  steps  from  Stella,  easily  without  ap 
parent  effort,  his  bandbox  air  unmarred. 

Stella  gave  him  the  rare  seduction  of 
her  smile.  From  beyond  came  applause. 
Uxhill,  emerging  from  the  dining-room, 
was  clapping  his  hands.  Advancing,  he 
rested  familiarly  an  arm  on  the  acrobat's 
shoulder. 

"  Here,"  he  said  to  Stella,  "here  is  the 
unusual.  Brains  and  brawn  combined. 
The  women  are  all  crazy  about  him, — be 
ginning  with  Maud.  It  will  be  your  turn 

.  j  y 
next. 

45 


VANITY    SQUARE 

"No,  Gerald,"  Maud  interrupted ;  "it 
is  your  turn  now.  We  are  having  a  little 
vaudeville  and  you  come  next." 

"Yes,"  said  Jones,  "with  one  of  your 
sonnets." 

"The  one  on  history,"  Maud  sug 
gested. 

Amiably  Uxhill  assented.  "  Very  good, 
but  I'll  skip  the  octave.  It  only  beats 
about  the  bush.  Here  is  the  tail  of  it : 

"  '  And  as  there  to  me  from  its  pages  streams 
The  incoherent  story  of  the  years, 

The  aimlessness  of  what  men  undertake, 
I  think  our  lives  are  surely  but  the  dreams 

Of  spirits,  dwelling  in  the  distant  spheres, 
Who,  as  we  die,  do  one  by  one  awake. ' ' 

Jones  applauded.  Stella,  too.  Uxhill 
turned  to  the  girl. 

"A  little  in  line  with  what  we 
were  talking  about,  don't  you  think  ? 
That  is  what  interested  me.  I  used  to 
believe  in  reincarnation  ;  do  you  ?  " 

46 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"It  is  difficult  not  to.  It  explains 
everything.  That  is  its  great  defect. 
Yet,  in  the  infinite,  there  is  room  for  so 
much,  for  so  many  combinations,  that  no 
doubt,  ultimately,  when  the  world  has 
dissolved  and  reformed,  sooner  or  later 
we  shall  all  find  ourselves  here  again 
precisely  as  we  are." 

"Jones  throwing  somersaults  and  I 
spouting  sonnets  ?  That  is  a  very 
gloomy  prospect." 

Jones  lifted  a  finger.  "If  Miss  Six- 
mith  will  permit  me,  I  will  venture  to 
disagree  with  her.  Precisely  as  we  are 
descended  from  gorillas,  so  from  us  will 
gods  be  born.  Mythology  is  merely  a 
story  of  what  might  have  been,  and  that 
which  might  have  been  will  yet  be.  Evo 
lution  may  be  slow,  but  it  is  sure.  It 
seems  in  us  to  have  accomplished  its  final 
achievement.  That  is  because  we  have 
such  flattering  notions  of  ourselves.  But 

47 


VANITY    SQUARE 

if  we  could  only  wait  long  enough,  beings 
as  superior  to  us  as  we  are  to  the  primal 
anthropoid  would  put  us  in  a  back  seat. 
Whose  turn  is  it  next?  " 

"Mine,"  said  Maud. 

She  moved  to  the  piano,  where  Jones 
followed.  As  she  played,  he  talked, 
Stella  and  Uxhill  meanwhile  forming  a 
separate  conversational  group  of  their 
own,  which  at  last  Jones  disrupted.  He 
was  going. 

Then  presently  Stella,  too,  disappeared. 

A  little  later  as  Uxhill  sat  in  Maud's 
room,  in  which  Adelaide  with  gold-backed 
brushes  was  brushing  his  wife's  burnt- 
orange  hair,  she  said  to  him  : 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  dear  if  they  were  to 
fall  in  love  ?  It  is  high  time  Yoda  mar 
ried,  and  she  would  be  just  the  girl." 

This  program  had  not  occurred  to  Ux 
hill  before.  Now  that  it  was  presented 
he  dismissed  it. 

48 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  Nonsense  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  But,  Gerald,  I  don't  see  why  you  say 
that." 

Nor  did  he. 


V. 

UFVDN'T  you  think,"  said  Maud  the 
next  day,  "  that  if  any  one  were 
to  take  her  up  and  bring  her  out  she 
would  be  a  success  ?" 

The  she,  of  course,  was  Stella.  It  was 
to  Uxhill  that  Maud  was  speaking.  They 
were  at  luncheon,  a  go-as-you-please 
repast,  served  in  this  house  in  the  White 
Cat  fashion,  invisibly,  by  servants  who 
had  brought  the  food  and  gone. 

"  Success  is  a  big  word,"  Uxhill  replied. 
"But  a  girl  with  a  soul  above  scandal, 
and  what  is  more  above  chiffons,  would 
certainly  surprise." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  her  looks." 

"  Yes,  no  doubt.  They  are  surprising 
also.  An  old  chemist  decomposed  society 
into  beautiful  women  and  intellectual 

50 


VANITY   SQUARE 

men.  But  old  chemists  don't  go  out 
much.  The  essential  ingredient  of  a 
society  woman  is  charm.  This  girl  lacks 
the  desir  de  plaire.  Her  intellect  is 
obvious.  But  intellect  in  a  woman  is 
like  beauty  in  a  man.  It  is  incongruous. 
No,"  Uxhill,  after  a  momentary  inter 
lude  with  knife  and  fork,  resumed, 
"she  would  not  make  a  hit  in  society. 
The  men  would  be  scared  by  her  brains 
and  the  women  by  her  looks.  She  is 
too  disquieting  for  either.  Where  is 
she  ?" 

"  Reading  to  Mowgy.  She  said  she 
would  join  us  shortly.  Mowgy  adores 
her.  That  is  such  a  test.  A  child's 
instinct  is  unerring." 

At  this,  Uxhill,  occupied  with  a  mousse 
of  ham,  shook  his  head.  He  was  not  so 
sure.  The  worst  men  may  have  the  best 
dogs.  The  instincts  of  the  latter  are  also 

unerring.     Having  finished  the    mousse, 
51 


VANITY    SQUARE 

he   was    about   to    say   as    much.     But 
abruptly  the  girl  entered. 

Uxhill  jumped  up,  drew  a  chair  and 
shoved  it  a  bit  as  the  girl  seated  herself. 

"  '  Blossom  of  branches  ! '  he  ex 
claimed. 

"  '  Blossom  of  branches  and  words 
That  bring  tears  swiftest  and  the  long  notes  of  birds, 
Violently  singing  till  the  whole  world  sings ; 
I,  Sappho,  shall  be  one  with  all  these  things, 
With  all  high  things  forever.' 

"  There,"  he  resumed,  "that  is  what 
you  remind  me  of.  It  has  puzzled  me  since 
I  saw  you  first.  You  suggested  somebody 
or  something,  though  what  I  could  not 
tell.  But  as  you  entered  I  knew.  You 
bring  with  you  gusts  of  song  that  blew 
through  Mitylene." 

Stella  looked  at  Maud.  The  latter  was 
laughing.  Over  the  girl's  Madonna  face 
there  crept  a  thin,  chill  smile. 

"  Because  of  a  little  man,  Sappho,  I 
believe,  was  foolish  enough  to  drown  her- 

52 


VANITY   SQUARE 

self.  I  am  quite  sure  no  man,  little  or 
big,  could  make  me  as  foolish  as  that." 

"  Or  foolish  at  all,"  Uxhill  interjected. 
"The  quotation  in  that  respect  is  not 
very  appropriate,  but — " 

"  Appropriate  !"  Maud  interrupted.  "  It 
is  not  even  right.  You  haven't  got  it 
straight.  It  begins,  '  Blossom  of  branches 
and  on  each  high  hill.'  I  remember 
well  enough.  You  used  to  quote  it  at 
me." 

But  her  laughter  had  oddly  subsided. 

With  superior  tact  Stella  intervened. 
"  I  see  they  have  dug  up  some  of  the 
lady's  verses  somewhere.  But,  then,  now 
adays  we  either  dig  up  or  pull  down. 
We  do  not  build.  Scientifically  the  world 
has  advanced,  but  otherwise  we  are  no 
wiser  than  the  Greeks.  We  represent  a 
very  curious  case  of  arrested  develop 
ment." 

Stella  had  before  her  an  egg  cooked  in 

53 


VANITY   SQUARE 

a  potato.  It  was  to  the  potato  her  re 
marks  were  addressed. 

4 'You  say  'we/  "  Uxhill  rejoined.  "  The 
plural  is  singular.  There  has  been  no 
arrest  in  your  development.  And  there 
is  just  the  oddity  of  it,  for  you  look  as 
though  you  had  stept  from  the  Golden 
Legend,  and  talk  as  though  you  came 
from  Mars." 

"Why  Mars?"  the  girl  negligently 
inquired. 

"I  would  have  said  Venus,  but  it 
seemed  less  subtle." 

"  You  mean  more  stupid,"  Maud  from 
across  the  table  threw  at  him.  "  Stella, 
don't  pay  any  attention  to  him.  That  is 
the  way  he  talks  to  Mowgy.  He  puts 
you  on  her  level." 

"  Mowgy' s  level  is  a  very  high  one," 
the  girl  replied.  "I  read  to  her  a  story 
of  a  very  terrible  person  who  devoured 
toys  and  children,  and  who  for  his  crimes 

54 


VANITY   SQUARE 

was  changed  into  a  candlestick.  She 
told  me  it  was  amusing  but  improbable." 

"Ah,"  said  Uxhill,  "  there  are  no  chil 
dren  any  more." 

"Not  at  this  table  at  any  rate,"  said 
Maud.  "  Not  at  this  end  of  it,  I  mean. 
Come,  Stella,  let  us  leave  him.  This 
afternoon  I  want  to  take  you  to  Mrs. 
Amsterdam's." 

"That  is  very  kind  of  you  ;  but  may  I 
ask  why?" 

"  In  order  that  you  may  enjoy  the  spec 
tacle  of  the  richest  woman  in  the  world." 

"Will   Mr.    Amsterdam    also    be    on 

view?" 

"  Dear  me,  no,"  Uxhill  explained. 
"Years  ago  an  unpleasant  story  came 
out  about  him  and  he  died,  his  friends 
said,  of  exposure." 

"  What  a  sensitive  person!"  said  Stella, 
getting  from  her  seat. 

As  she  did  so  she  raised  a  hand  and 

55 


VANITY   SQUARE 

adjusted  her  hair,  or,  perhaps,  a  comb  that 
was  in  it.  But  one  hand  must  have  been 
insufficient.  She  raised  the  other,  and 
with  both  arms  uplifted,  her  fingers  on 
the  back  of  her  head,  followed  Maud 
from  the  room. 

Uxhill  watched  her  go.  When  she 
had  gone,  he  still  saw  her,  saw,  too,  some 
thing  that  he  had  not  seen  before :  the 
reason  of  love  expressed  by  a  woman 
merely  in  raising  her  arms. 

In  that  movement  of  hers,  unpremedi 
tated  and  natural,  made  without  thought 
of  him,  one  which  she  could  not  have 
known  that  he  had  noticed,  was  an  incite 
ment  generating  the  insanity  of  the  desire 
to  crush  his  lips  against  the  ice  of  hers 
and  taste  the  perfume  of  their  frozen 
flower.  No  shape  of  sweet  could  be 
acuter  than  its  savor.  And  at  the 
chimera  of  it  the  room  turned  round. 

In  the  heart  of  every  one  there  is  evil. 

56 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Were  it  otherwise,  in  all  creation  the 
heart  would  be  unique.  In  one  sense, 
however,  the  heart  is  unique.  There, 
influences  that  we  know  nothing  of,  im 
pulses  which  some  of  us  never  feel,  watch 
and  wait.  Usually,  through  one  factor  or 
another  they  are  controlled,  sometimes 
forgotten,  more  often  ignored,  but  never 
banished.  They  are  there.  It  is  the  dis 
tinguishing  trait  of  a  gentleman  that  he 
never  betrays  their  presence. 

Uxhill  was  a  gentleman.  He  was  also 
a  human  being.  He  could  not  rid  him 
self  of  instincts  inherited  from  primitive 
ancestors  to  whom  woman  was  a  prey. 
Yet,  though  he  could  not  do  that,  he  could 
prevent  their  expression. 

In  a  moment  the  room  ceased  to  re 
volve.  Then,  in  irritation  at  himself,  he 
gnawed  at  his  moustache,  and,  after  the 
manner  of  man,  took  a  stroll  on  the  up 
lands  of  self-communion. 

57 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  I  seem  to  be  entertaining  what  I  think 
I  have  seen  described  as  a  guilty  pas 
sion."  In  the  sotto  voce  of  thought  he 
added,  "  At  my  age,  too  !  " 

For  the  solace  of  smoke  he  sought  a 
cigar.  The  cabinet  in  which  the  cigars 
were  kept  stood  in  front  of  a  mirror  into 
which  not  long  before  he  had  looked. 
He  looked  again.  He  saw  a  man  with 
whose  appearance  he  was  perfectly 
familiar, — tall,  bright,  dressed  with  that 
extreme  distinction  which  certain  New 
Yorkers  occasionally  attain ;  thirty-five 
years  old,  a  touch  of  gray  over  the  ears, 
a  touch  which  he  had  been  told — and 
believed — accentuated  his  natural  dis 
tinction,  and  at  which  he  now  looked 
with  eyes  that  he  could  render  insolent 
or  tender,  and  which  in  his  corsair  days 
women  had  admired  very  much. 

No ;  he  was  not  Methuselah  yet. 

He  found  a  cigar,  lighted  it,  dropped 

58 


VANITY   SQUARE 

back  in  his  seat,  and  contemplated  his 
beautifully  varnished  shoes. 

"A  girl  like  that!"  he  told  them. 
"Why,  there  ought  to  be  a  law  against 
it  A  piece  of  diabolic  incandescence 
left  to  roam  about  unchecked  !  It  is  not 
safe.  If  I  had  met  her  earlier  I  would 
have  eaten  her.  But  now  she  is 
not  eatable.  She  is  not  even  to  be 
nibbled  at.  A  mere  peck  and  if  eyes 
could  kill,  hers  would,  I  can  see  them 
at  it.  What  is  worse  yet,  I  can  see 
Maud's." 

At  the  beautifully  varnished  shoes  he 
bowed.  "Non,  Monsieur,  soyons  sage  et 
brisons  la" 

Uxhill  stood  up,  balanced  himself  on 
his  heels,  sauntered  out  into  the  hall,  had 
himself  helped  into  a  coat,  had  his  gloves 
handed  to  him,  his  hat,  finally  his  stick, 
had  doors  opened  for  him,  doors  that 
were  not  closed  until  he  had  reached  the 

59 


VANITY   SQUARE 

street  and  wandered  on,  quickening  his 
steps  for  a  six-mile  spin. 

But  it  was  brutally  cold.  He  thought 
five  might  do,  compromised  on  three, 
after  which  he  entered  the  Athenaeum 
Club,  where  any  afternoon  he  could  lose 
at  bridge  as  much  as  he  liked. 

On  this  afternoon,  instead  of  losing,  he 
won.  Miracles  make  us  superstitious. 
He  told  himself  that  luck  at  cards  means 
ill  luck  in  love.  He  was  just  as  well 
pleased.  The  post-luncheon  commotion 
had  gone.  The  desire  for  so  much  as  a 
peck  had  gone  with  it.  In  its  place  was 
a  rightful  yet  illogical  irritation.  At  the 
unwitting  girl  he  was  vexed.  But  in 
some  way  the  conscience  must  be 
salved. 

Uxhill,  having  salved  his  own,  had  him 
self  helped  again  to  his  things,  helped 
into  a  cab  and  sent  home.  There  he 
looked  in  on  Mowgy,  admired  the  things, 

60 


VANITY   SQUARE 

very  precious,  which  she  allowed  no  one 
but  herself  to  touch,  and  improvised  for 
her  a  few  extraordinary  tales.  When  she 
had  her  fill  of  stories  and  bread  and 
butter,  he  dressed,  went  to  the  drawing- 
room,  and  examined  the  evening  papers. 
But  he  was  getting  hungry.  He  looked 
at  a  clock.  In  looking,  he  saw  Stella. 
She  was  entering  the  room. 

Instantly  the  vexation  returned.  On 
the  spur  of  the  moment,  with  some  un 
formed  idea  of  having  it  out  with  her,  he 
got  up,  went  to  her,  peered  into  her  eyes, 
and  in  a  voice  that  was  hardly  above  a 
whisper,  said  very  swiftly,  "  At  luncheon 
I  could  have  said  to  you,  kiss  me  and  kill 
me,  but  kiss  me  first.  Since  then — " 

With  the  air  of  a  divinity  offended  at 
being  but  looked  at,  the  girl  interrupted 
him.  "Once  and  for  all,  I  forbid  you  to 
address  me  as  you  have." 

Suddenly  Maud  appeared.     Had  Ux- 


61 


VANITY   SQUARE 

hill  and  the  girl  been  exchanging  vows 
they  could  not  have  separated  more  awk 
wardly. 

With  heightening  wonder  Maud  looked 
at  them.  But  Uxhill  made  a  remark. 
Stella  another.  Conversation  became 
general.  Though  general,  it  was  dull. 
At  dinner,  which  shortly  ensued,  it  was 
duller. 


62 


VI. 


/TpHE  dulness  was  due  perhaps  to 
Maud.  She  was  not  quite  up  to 
the  mark.  That  afternoon  she  had  pro 
vided  Stella  with  the  spectacle  of  the 
richest  woman  in  the  world  presiding 
richly  in  her  own  rich  house.  But  any 
success  which  Maud  may  have  antici 
pated  for  Stella  the  girl  failed  to  score. 
From  a  case  of  gems  you  get  a  glare  in 
which  the  brilliance  of  the  brightest  is 
diffused.  To  appreciate  that  brilliance 
the  stone  must  be  detached.  In  the 
radiant  rooms  there  was  a  lavishness  of 
radiant  women  in  which  the  girl  was  lost. 
Her  beauty  was  of  a  quality  that  re 
quired,  like  a  jewel,  relief. 

By  Mrs.  Amsterdam  she  was  greeted 
most    amicably     and     instantly     forgot. 

63 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Onward  from  her  with  Maud  she  passed. 
In  passing  a  man  joined  them,  stopped 
them  ;  the  group  was  reinforced.  An 
American  peeress,  who,  on  a  honeymoon 
trip  with  her  earl  to  Canada,  had  met 
Stella  at  the  governor-general's,  recalled 
to  her  that  pleasurable  fact.  When 
Stella  turned  from  her  to  Maud  the  latter 
had  disappeared.  But  the  man  re 
mained.  He  had  a  pink  skin,  a  fair, 
curled  moustache  and  the  endearing 
manner  of  an  affectionate  little  dog. 

"  You  must  help  me  find  Mrs.  Uxhill," 
Stella  told  him.  She  had  not  caught  his 
name,  but  she  fancied  it  might  be  Fido. 

"I  but  live  your  behests  to  obey,"  he 
promptly  and  ingratiatingly  replied. 
"  We  will  circumvent  her  at  one  of  the 
buffets." 

Gambolling  at  her  side,  he  accompanied 
her  through  crowded  suites.  But  the 
buffets  were  not  reached,  or  at  least  not 

64 


VANITY   SQUARE 

then.  Down  on  them  bore  a  large  ra 
pacious  woman,  wonderfully  befurred. 
Stella  could  see  her  teeth,  long,  wide  and 
even.  Then  what  happened  to  the  little 
man  ;  whether  he  was  but  purloined  or 
gobbled  whole,  she  never  knew.  A  faint 
yelp  and  he  had  vanished.  But  now,  be 
yond  was  Maud,  talking  very  earnestly 
to  a  man  whom  Stella  recognized  as 
Jones.  Presently,  after  a  little  effort,  she 
got  to  where  they  stood.  Then  Jones 
sank  back.  A  sea  of  millinery  had  en 
gulfed  him. 

The  hall,  though,  was  neighborly,  and 
through  it  shortly,  through  an  odor  of 
flowers,  of  food,  of  finery,  into  which 
notes  from  an  orchestra  fell,  the  two 
women  got  away ;  or,  rather,  tried  to. 
It  was  a  minute  or  so  before  the  Uxhill 
groom  was  discernible,  and  a  minute  or 
so  more  elapsed  before  he  got  to  the 
brougham  and  got  it  back  to  where  they 

5  65 


VANITY   SQUARE 

were.  After  the  conservatory  atmos 
phere  from  which  they  had  come  the  bite  of 
the  air  was  polar.  Maud  may  have  caught 
cold.  In  any  event,  at  dinner  she  com 
plained  of  not  feeling  quite  well.  After 
ward,  at  Uxhill's  suggestion,  Stella  got 
and  gave  her  a  simple  preparation  of 
quinine. 

The  preparation,  though,  failed  to  work 
wonders.  The  next  day  Maud  was  lan 
guid,  slightly  depressed,  occasionally 
chill. 

But  Sayce  was  very  neighborly.  Sum 
moned,  he  came,  and  a  diagnosis  was 
pronounced. 

"  A  touch  of  coryza, — in  short,  nothing 
whatever.  All  the  same,"  he  added,  "I 
am  glad  Miss  Sixmith  is  still  here." 

At  the  time,  Uxhill,  the  physician,  and 
the  girl  were  in  Maud's  room,  where  the 
latter  lay  in  a  big  silver  bed  which  Uxhill 
had  found  in  Bengal. 

66 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"I  had  intended  to  go  this  afternoon," 
Stella  rejoined. 

"  That  would  be  barbarous,"  said  Ux- 
hill ;  "  we  shan't  let  you." 

"  No,  you  had  best  remain,"  Sayce 
authoritatively  ordered;  "at  least,  until 
Mrs.  Uxhill  is  up." 

Maud  said  nothing.  Her  eyes  were 
closed.  It  may  be  that  she  had  not 
heard. 

"  Very  good,"  Stella  docilely  an 
swered. 

As  always,  she  was  simply  dressed  ; 
on  this  occasion  in  gray.  Its  sombre- 
ness  did  not  detract  from  her  beauty. 
Nothing  could.  But  with  her  dense 
black  hair,  her  starlike  eyes,  the  scarlet 
of  her  mouth,  the  pallor  of  her  face,  her 
perfect  features,  her  slender  form  that 
pulsated  with  health  and  youth, — with 
these  attributes  she  looked  in  a  sick 
room  a  bit  out  of  place. 

67 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Of  that  she  may  have  been  conscious. 
After  Sayce  had  given  his  directions  and 
he  and  Uxhill  had  gone,  she,  too,  left  the 
room.  When  she  returned  her  appear 
ance  was  chastened.  She  had  put  on 
again  the  regulation  garb. 

She  looked  at  Maud.  "  I  have  sent  to 
the  chemist's.  The  medicine  will  be  here 
shortly." 

But  Maud  did  not  seem  to  care. 

"  Perhaps,"  the  girl  resumed,  "I  had 
better  see.  It  may  have  come." 

Again  she  left  the  room.  When  she 
returned  she  brought  a  little  package. 

"  Here  it  is.  Mr.  Uxhill  had  it.  He 
was  fetching  it  himself." 

Stella  undid  the  package.  In  it  was 
a  little  bottle.  From  the  bottle  she 
poured  some  of  the  contents  into  a 
spoon  which  she  gave  to  Maud.  Then, 
putting  the  bottle  down,  she  seated  her 
self. 

68 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  How  is  Mowgy  ?"  Maud  asked. 

''Very  well." 

"I  think  I  will  have  her  come  here." 

"  Dr.  Sayce  said  he  preferred  you  did 
not.  Coryza  is  infectious." 

For  a  while  there  was  silence.  From 
the  back  of  the  silver  bed  hung-  a  button. 

Maud  pressed  it. 

Adelaide  knocked  and  entered. 

1  'Tell  Nora  I  want  her." 

A  moment  or  two  and  the  nurse  ap 
peared. 

«  Nora,  I—" 

The  sentence  was  never  completed. 
Maud's  eyes  closed.  Her  head  fell  back. 
She  had  fainted. 

Through  the  joint  efforts  of  the  two 
nurses  soon  she  recovered.  But  re 
covery  from  a  swoon  is  a  sensation 
peculiarly  disagreeable.  In  your  ears 
is  the  roar  of  returning  life.  Yet,  in 
it  you  cannot  tell  who  you  are  or  where 


VANITY   SQUARE 

you  are.  You  are  conscious  only  that 
you  are  agonizing  in  some  place  un 
defined.  Then  up  you  swim. 

Maud  had  never  fainted  before. 

The  sensation  was  new  to  her,  so  be 
wildering  even  that  she  did  not  know 
quite  what  had  occurred,  and  it  was  ab 
solutely  with  anger  that  Nora  told  her. 
But  no  one  likes  to  be  superseded. 
The  old  nurse  was  jealous. 

Maud  did  not  faint  again  that  day. 
But  though  gradually  thereafter  the 
coryza  departed,  the  languor  remained. 

A  few  days  later  Sayce  diagnosed 
again  and  prescribed  anew. 

"  You  are  a  bit  anaemic,"  he  told  her. 
"We  will  soon  cure  that.  A  tonic  is 
what  you  need." 

On  his  way  out  he  got  alone  with 
Uxhill.  "What  has  she  on  her  mind?" 
he  asked. 

"On    her     mind!"    repeated    Uxhill. 
70 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  Nothing.  Nothing  that  I  know  of. 
Why?" 

It  is  never  judicious  to  put  a  flea  in  any 
one's  ear.  In  a  harum-scarum  place 
like  New  York  it  is  not  only  injudicious, 
it  is  stupid.  Besides,  if  a  man  does  not 
know  what  his  wife  has  on  her  mind,  it  is 
obviously  not  her  wish  that  he  should. 
Then,  too,  there  are  mysteries  that  are 
better  ignored  than  elucidated. 

"Oh!"  Sayce  exclaimed.  "She  gave 
me  the  impression  of  being  a  bit  absent. 
But  that  may  have  been  due  to  her 
anaemic  condition." 

"  No  doubt.  But  I  can't  understand 
why  she  should  be  anaemic.  Always 
her  health  has  been  perfect.  Not  since 
Mowgy  was  born  has  there  been  a  thing 
the  matter  with  her." 

"  Precisely.  She  has  overdone  it. 
Metropolitan  life  would  do  up  a  football 
team." 

71 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  Bah  !  We  go  nowhere.  We  just  sit 
about  and  twirl  our  thumbs." 

"  It  may  be  due  to  that,  then.  What 
your  wife  needs  is  a  change." 

"A  change!"  cried  the  exasperated 
Uxhill.  "A  change  !  For  a  year  and 
a  day  I  have  done  nothing  but  beg 
her  to  go  with  me  anywhere,  anywhere 
at  all, — to  the  pampas,  to  the  sierras, 
to  Tahiti,  to  Borneo.  She  has  only 
to  choose.  But,  no.  She  prefers  this 
sordid  city." 

Sayce  passed  a  hand  over  his  eyes. 
Grand  almoner  of  Vanity  Square,  he 
was  viewing  things,  or  thought  he 
was,  which  he  thought,  too,  Uxhill  could 
not. 

"Well,"  he  concluded,  "  it  is  never 
wise  to  urge  a  lady  against  her  will. 
It  may  be  that  your  very  persistence  has 
told  on  her.  Anyway,  don't  let  her  have 
any  bothers." 

72 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Getting  into  his  coat,  he  added,  "  I 
will  look  in  again  shortly." 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word.  But  he 
did  not  find  that  Maud  had  improved. 
When  he  again  left  her  he  was  perplexed. 
Her  condition  presented  symptoms  which, 
though  obscure  in  themselves,  did  not 
coincide  with  his  original  diagnosis. 

Of  that,  however,  he  said  nothing  to 
Uxhill,  who  that  morning  seemed  very 
busy. 


73 


VII. 

T  TXHILL  was  even  busier  than  he 
seemed.  He  had  a  great  job  on 
his  hands,  the  bother  of  going  to  Wall 
Street,  getting  into  a  cage,  cutting  off 
coupons,  putting  them  into  envelopes, 
entering  them  on  a  slip,  adding  up  how 
much  they  came  to,  handing  them  to  a 
man  in  another  cage ;  with,  meanwhile,  the 
bother  of  getting  the  big  bondbox  out 
of  the  vault  and  back  again. 

It  was  a  job  that  he  loathed,  and  which 
always  he  put  off  as  long  as  possible, 
depositing  to  the  teller's  never-failing 
surprise  bundles  of  coupons,  six,  twelve, 
and  sometimes  eighteen  months  after  the 
date  on  which  they  were  payable,  and 
then  only  because  of  the  receipt  of  some 
polite  warning  of  possible  deficit. 

74 


VANITY   SQUARE 

An  intimation  of  this  kind  had  reached 
him  the  evening-  before.  Already  he 
had  spoken  to  Maud  about  it.  On  pre 
vious  occasions  when  he  had  done  so 
there  had  always  been  some  little  jest 
between  them  regarding  it,  he  main 
taining  that  he  had  to  work  like  a  dray-  ' 
man,  and  she  admitting  that  it  was 
dreadful.  But  on  this  occasion  there 
was  no  jesting,  nor  was  there  any  when, 
after  Sayce  had  gone,  he  looked  in  on 
her  again. 

She  was  lying  propped  up  in  the  silver 
bed.  Beyond  at  a  window  Stella  was 
seated.  Together  they  formed  a  little 
group  which,  ordinarily,  would  have  been 
charming.  When  a  woman  is  exquisite, 
the  white  of  pillows  and  the  sheen  of 
silks  make  her  look  like  a  flower  in  a 
garden,  a  rose  chimerically  fair.  When 
she  is  beautiful,  any  severity  of  costume 

will,   through    sheer   contrast,   make  her 
75 


VANITY   SQUARE 

more  beautiful  still.  Here  were  two 
women,  differently,  yet  equally  fetching ; 
one  that,  despite  her  beauty,  seemed  all 
mind,  and  one  who,  because  of  her  charm, 
seemed  all  heart. 

That  heart,  though,  must  have  been 
aching.  As  Uxhill  entered,  Maud  turned 
to  him.  Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 
She  raised  a  handkerchief  and  held  it  to 
them.  But  if  the  swoon  she  had  had 
was  new  to  her,  her  tears  were  new  to 
him.  In  that  face  of  hers,  that  was  made 
for  smiles  and  kisses,  never  had  he  seen 
them  there  before. 

From  Maud,  he  turned  to  Stella.  With 
an  air  of  slight  displeasure,  the  girl  raised 
her  perfect  brow  and,  much  as  though 
Maud  were  a  wilful  child,  told  him  that 
she  would  not  take  her  medicine. 

"Well,"  said  Uxhill  with  affected  light 
ness,  "I  can't  blame  her  for  that.  I  keep 
in  trim  for  no  other  reason  than  that  I 

76 


VANITY   SQUARE 

shan't  have  to  take  any  of  the  stuff  my 
self.  But  where  is  it?" 

Stella  stood  up,  indicating  a  bottle  as 
she  did  so. 

"  Come,  Maud,"  said  Uxhill,  as  with  it 
he  approached  the  bed.  "I  might  have 
known  that  I  would  have  to  give  it  to 
you.  Come  !  " 

Maud  still  held  a  hand  to  her  eyes. 
But  at  this  she  let  it  fall,  and  from  the 
pillows  looked  at  him.  Her  eyes  wet, 
circled  and  drawn,  had  in  them  the  ex 
pression  sad  and  tender  of  a  beaten  dog. 
There  was  pain  in  them,  and  with  it 
something  else  which  Uxhill,  occupied 
with  the  medicine,  did  not  see. 

"  Will  you  take  it?" 

"If  you  wish  me  to." 

But  a  little  of  it  spilled.  She  put  the 
handkerchief  to  her  mouth  and  turned 
away. 

"I  have  to  go  to  Wall  Street,"  Uxhill 

77 


VANITY   SQUARE 

continued.  He  did  not  specify  for  what; 
already  he  had  told  her.  "  It  will  be  four 
before  I  can  get  back." 

Maud  said  nothing.  Her  head  was 
still  turned. 

"It  is  the  devil's  own  job,"  he  added 
and  hesitated,  expecting  the  usual  reply. 

Maud,  though,  could  not  have  been  in 
the  mood  for  it.  She  still  said  nothing. 

"But  when  I  do  get  back,"  Uxhill 
resumed,  "  I  want  to  hear  very  good  ac 
counts  of  you,  very  good,  indeed, — that 
you  have  taken  your  medicine  and  done 
what  you  have  been  told.  We  want  to 
get  you  up,  little  girl.  Don't  we,  Miss 
Sixmith?" 

"  I  am  sure  we  do,"  the  girl  in  her  bell- 
like  voice  replied.  "  I  am  sure,  too,  that 
when  you  return  I  shall  have  a  good 
report  of  her  for  you." 

Along  the  silk  covering  of  the  bed 
Maud's  hand  lay.  Uxhill  took  it,  pressed 

78 


VANITY   SQUARE 

it,  felt  it  press  his  own;  then  turning, 
he  left  the  room. 

What  then  occurred  there  it  was  some 
time  before  he  could  discover.  For 
when  the  devil's  own  job  of  which  he 
had  spoken  was  over  and  he  got  back, 
it  was  by  no  means  the  same  room  as 
before. 

The  silver  bed  was  there,  but  it  was 
empty.  The  chair  on  which  Stella  had 
sat  was  empty,  too.  Things,  also,  had 
gone.  Gold-backed  brushes,  for  instance, 
usually  very  obvious  on  the  dressing- 
table,  had  disappeared  ;  other  things,  the 
absence  of  which  he  did  not  notice  at  the 
time,  had  disappeared  as  well.  It  was 
only  the  emptiness  of  the  silver  bed  that 
he  saw,  and  concluding  that  Maud  must 
be  in  Mowgy's  room,  he  went  there. 

The  little  bright  crib,  the  elephants 
and  guards  across  the  way,  the  house 
filled  with  precious  things  beneath,  the 

79 


VANITY   SQUARE 

seraglio  of  dolls, — all  these  were  un 
changed.  But  Maud  was  not  among 
them,  nor  was  Mowgy. 

They  were  somewhere  else,  he  told 
himself.  Perhaps  in  his  rooms,  or  in  the 
library,  or  in  the  drawing-room  below. 
Anyway,  they  were  somewhere. 

In  search  of  them,  he  left  the  nursery. 
In  the  hall,  vacating  a  room  beyond, 
Stella  appeared.  She  had  a  hat  on,  a 
coat  of  black  fur,  and  she  was  gloved. 

"  Where  are  they  ?  "  he  asked. 

At  sight  of  him  the  girl  stopped,  and 
in  a  frightened  way  looked  at  him  as 
people  look,  or  are  reported  to  look,  at 
ghosts.  With  the  fingers  of  her  gloved 
hand,  she  made  a  little  backward  ges 
ture. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"Why,  no;  how  should  I?  I've  just 
got  in." 

At  this   the   girl,  resting   a   steadying 

80 


VANITY   SQUARE 

hand  on  the  banister,  answered  dumbly, 
-Then  I  don't." 

"  Don't  know  where  they  are  ? "  Uxhill 
repeated. 

Stella  shook  her  head.  -No,"  she 
said  dumbly.  "I  don't." 

"  But  they  must  be  somewhere,  you 
know." 

At  that  Stella  nodded,  yet  so  uncer 
tainly,  and  with  a  lack  of  confidence  so 
apparent,  that  for  the  first  time  Uxhill 
noticed  the  singularity  of  her  attitude. 
It  was  as  though  something  were  affecting 
her,  and  that  something, — fright. 

Perplexedly  he  gnawed  at  his  mous 
tache.  "But — " 

Stella  interrupted  him.  "  A  little  after 
you  went  out  they  told  me  luncheon  was 
served,  and  I  went  to  the  dining-room. 
Then  one  of  the  men  told  me  that  there 
had  been  an  accident.  It  was  quite  a 
while  before  they  brought  anything. 

6  81 


VANITY  SQUARE 

Afterward,  when  I  came  up  here,  there 


was  no  one." 


At  the  brief  climax  of  the  simple  tale, 
Uxhill  stared.  He  did  not  at  all  under 
stand.  That  something  unusual  had 
occurred  was  clear.  Yet,  however  un 
usual  the  occurrence  might  be,  he  felt 
that  it  was  but  some  mystification,  which 
presently  would  be  explained. 

"They're  in  my  rooms,  then!"  he  de 
clared. 

"But  they're  gone!" 

"Gone!"  Uxhill  cried.  "Gone  where?" 

"That's  it.     I  thought  you  knew." 

"  But  I  don't  know.  I  don't  even  know 
why  you  say  they  are  gone.  Where  is 
there  for  them  to  go  to  ?  Why  do  you 
say  they  are  not  here  ?  " 

"  Adelaide  told  me.  She  helped  them ; 
she  and  one  of  the  footmen.  Nora 
packed  while  Adelaide  helped  your  wife 
to  dress,  and  the  footman  carried  down 


VANITY   SQUARE 

the  bags  and  boxes  to  a  cab.  Then  Mrs. 
Uxhill  took  Mowgy  and,  with  Nora,  drove 
away.  It  was  all  done  while  I  was  in  the 
dining-room.  You  can't  hear  in  there, 
you  know,  what  is  going  on  anywhere 
else." 

Uxhill  leaned  against  the  wall.  In  the 
palms  of  his  hands  and  about  his  ears 
perspiration  had  started.  He  was  in  the 
thick  of  something,  yet  what  ? 

"  She  is  crazy,"  he  announced  at  last, 
"or  I  am."  But  immediately  he  rallied. 
"  She  must  have  left  some  word.  Will 
you  come  with  me  to  the  drawing-room  ? 
Though,  first,  I  will  see  if  there  is  no  note 
here.  In  a  moment  I  will  join  you  below." 

Down  the  stair  slowly  Stella  went, 
while  fruitlessly  Uxhill  rummaged,  first 
in  Maud's  room,  then  in  his  own.  But 
there  was  no  note,  not  a  line,  nothing 
save  the  muteness  of  the  deserted  rooms, 
their  dumb  disorder,  the  silent  tokens  of 

83 


VANITY   SQUARE 

a  hurried  flight,  drawers  emptied  and  un 
closed,  a  dress  of  Maud's  rumpled  in  a  cor 
ner,  a  shoe  of  Mowgy's  discarded  or  forgot. 

Save  that,  save,  too,  his  own  conster 
nation,  there  was  nothing.  But  there  are 
times  when  nothing  is  so  much  that  the 
weight  of  it  becomes  unbearable. 

In  search  of  something  that  might 
serve  to  remove  it,  Uxhill  got  to  the  floor 
below,  got  the  servants  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  got  from  them  what  they  knew. 
That,  though,  was  not  a  great  deal,  little 
more  than  what  Stella  had  already  told, 
except  that  the  delay  in  serving  luncheon 
had  been  caused  by  Nora,  who,  in  Mrs. 
Uxhill's  name,  had  bundled  them  all 
about ;  sending  one  footman  to  the 
Grand  Central  for  a  cab  with  a  gallery, 
another  to  the  apothecary ;  upsetting, 
meanwhile,  a  tray  which  the  kitchen-maid 
was  taking  to  the  pantry, — an  accident 
that  had  necessitated  a  recooking  of  the 

84 


VANITY   SQUARE 

lunch  ;  details  supplemented  by  an  ac 
count  of  the  haste  with  which  Mrs.  Uxhill 
had  had  Adelaide  help  dress  her,  and 
then,  the  cab  arriving,  with  Mowgy  and 
Nora,  had  driven  away. 

These  details,  which  afterward  became 
highly  significant,  did  not  at  the  time 
clarify  matters  in  the  least ;  on  the  con 
trary,  they  made  darkness  deeper,  so 
deep,  indeed,  that,  in  the  depths  of  it, 
Uxhill  inwardly  felt  himself  going  to 
pieces. 

"It  is  like  the  Besalul  affair,"  he  mut 
tered  at  Stella,  when,  the  questioning 
over,  the  servants  had  gone. 

During  the  examination  of  the  latter, 
during  the  story  which  had  unfolded,  and 
which  had  but  amplified  without  elucida 
ting  the  tale  which  the  girl  herself  had 
told,  her  frightened  look  had  retreated. 
From  her  shoulders  responsibility  was 
lifted.  Her  composure  returned.  She 

85 


VANITY   SQUARE 

was  as  coldly  beautiful  as  ever, — an  icicle 
in  a  parlor  ;  in  this  instance  in  the  parlor 
of  a  man. 

"  It  is  just  like  it,"  Uxhill  added.  "Mrs. 
Besalul  disappeared  not  long  ago  quite 
as  inexplicably  as  Maud." 

He  paused,  gnawed  at  his  moustache, 
looked  down  and  away,  then  up  at  the 
girl. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  why  she  did  this?" 

-I,  Mr.  Uxhill?" 

"  Oh,  if  I  ask,"  he  nervously  resumed, 
"it  is  only  because  I  am  threshing  about 
for  a  possible  clew.  I  can't  fancy  that 
she  has  run  off  with  a  man.  Barring 
Jones,  who  no  more  counts  than  Patmore 
does,  I  have  never  seen  her  so  much  as 
look  at  one." 

At  Mrs.  Amsterdam's,  Stella  had 
thought  that  Jones  did  count.  But  of 
the  incident  she  said  nothing.  She  had 
been  seated.  Now  she  stood  up. 

86 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  It  is  inexplicable.  I  don't  understand, 
at  all.  At  first,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  I 
could  only  think  of  my  own  connection 
with  it.  Nominally,  at  least,  your  wife 
was  in  my  care.  Yet,  even  had  I  known, 
how  could  I  have  prevented  her  from 
leaving  her  house  ?" 

In  the  unanswerableness  of  the  query, 
she  hesitated.  "No,  I  could  not  have," 
she  presently  continued.  "But,  now  I 
must  leave  it.  I  will  send  for  my  things." 

Stella  moved  forward,  a  gloved  hand 
extended,  and  with,  in  her  face,  an  ex 
pression  which  Uxhill  had  not  seen  there 
before. 

"At  first  I  thought  of  myself.  But, 
now  I  think  of  you.  Believe  me,  you 
have  my  deepest  sympathy." 

"Thank  you.  I  appreciate  that  you 
cannot  stay.  I  thank  you  again.  But,  of 
course,  you  cannot  go  like  this." 

He     touched     a     bell,     ordered     the 

87 


VANITY   SQUARE 

brougham.  When  shortly  it  arrived,  he 
accompanied  her  to  the  door,  saw  a  foot 
man  precede  her  to  the  carriage,  saw  her 
enter  it,  saw  her  drive  away,  and,  turning, 
saw  that  he  was  alone. 


VIII. 

TN  circumstances  not  similar,  but  cog 
nate,  women  have  sought  consolation 
in  prayer,  men  in  drink.  Uxhill  made  for 
the  dining-room,  where  in  decanters  liquor 
stood.  To  him  it  was  as  though  the  end 
of  the  world  had  come.  That  Maud 
should  get  from  a  sick-bed,  pick  up  the 
child,  and  go  off  as  she  had  without  a 
word  of  explanation,  without  the  sem 
blance  of  a  pretext,  without  any  cause 
whatever,  without  the  formality  of  with- 
your-leave,  or  by-your-leave,  without  a 
line  of  farewell,  without  an  expression  of 
regret, — that  she  should  do  that,  in  a  mo 
ment,  after  years  of  devotion,  seemed  to 
him  as  dynamic  and  disintegrating  as 
though  forces  superterrestrial  had  torn 
the  planet  to  bits. 

89 


VANITY   SQUARE 

The  analogy,  if  imaginative,  was  nat 
ural.  His  own  little  world  had  sundered. 
In  the  wreck  of  it  he  helped  himself  to 
brandy.  At  once  from  the  glass  there 
jumped  the  inevitable  Why. 

Hitherto,  since  his  return  from  Wall 
Street,  or  more  exactly  since  it  had  be 
come  obvious  that  those  who  composed 
his  little  world  were  gone,  he  had  been 
conscious  of  a  curious  conviction  that 
somehow,  shortly,  it  would  be  all  ex 
plained  and  set  right ;  that  the  disappear 
ance  was  but  an  illusion  which  he  was 
tricked  into  regarding  as  real.  But,  in 
crises,  that  is  always  the  way.  Human 
nature  is  so  constituted  that  it  must  be 
come  at  home  with  a  catastrophe  before 
it  can  credit  that  a  catastrophe  has  oc 
curred.  The  unawaited,  when  it  chooses 
and  pounces  on  a  victim,  does  so  with  a 
celerity  that  stuns.  There  is  a  sense  of 
nightmare,  not  of  actuality,  for  that  and 

90 


VANITY   SQUARE 

the  pain  of  it  come  later.  At  the  shock 
you  are  but  grappling  with  the  intangible 
and  the  void,  with  things  that  you  feel 
must  be  dream,  though  you  know  they 
are  death. 

It  was  precisely  the  temporary  absence 
of  pain,  which  makes  men  suddenly 
maimed  unaware  at  first  that  they  are 
even  hurt,  that  had  enabled  Uxhill  to 
comport  himself  before  Stella  and  the 
servants  almost  phlegmatically.  Not  un 
til  the  girl  had  left  the  house  and  he  had 
breathed  its  atmosphere  of  desolation,  did 
he  realize  that  the  worst  that  could  be  had 
been  done. 

Then,  from  the  brandy,  there  jumped 
the  Why. 

It  is  conscience  that  disturbs  the  sin 
ner,-  not  the  sin.  The  first  Because  on 
which  Uxhill  hit  was  a  memory,  finger- 
pointed,  of  the  emotions  that  the  headi- 
ness  of  Stella  had  induced.  Yet,  of  these 

91 


VANITY   SQUARE 

emotions  the  girl  herself  was  ignorant. 
They  could  not  have  precipitated  this  ca 
tastrophe,  for  Maud  was  ignorant  of  them 
also, — unless,  indeed,  she  had  suddenly 
developed  the  power  of  clairvoyance. 

That,  of  course,  was  impossible.  And 
yet,  in  his  quality  of  ex-freebooter,  he 
knew,  and  none  better,  that  in  affairs  of 
the  heart  a  woman  who  really  loves  be 
comes  really  clairvoyant.  But,  clairvoy 
ants  make  mistakes  ;  they  know  they  do 
and  admit  it.  Maud,  he  reflected,  was 
too  just  to  have  abandoned  him  because 
of  a  doubt  generated  by  what  at  best,  or 
at  worst,  could  be  but  a  suspicion. 

Then  at  once  another  query  presented 
itself.  Why  had  Maud  gone  without  let 
ting  Stella  know  that  she  was  going? 
Why,  too,  had  she  gone  at  a  moment  when 
the  girl  was  practically  in  the  one  part  of 
the  house  where  she  would  be  unaware 
that  Maud  was  leaving  it  ?  Why,  indeed, 

92 


VANITY   SQUARE 

he  decided,  unless  Maud  believed  that 
she  was  in  league  with  him  and  would 
telephone  him  or  otherwise  circumvent 
her.  Yet,  in  that  event,  if  through  some 
vagary  of  the  sick-room,  Maud  did  believe 
the  girl  in  league  with  him,  why  should 
she  believe  also  that  the  girl  would  at 
tempt  to  detain  her?  In  a  presumable 
league  of  this  kind,  Maud's  departure 
would  be  the  one  result  desired, — there 
would  have  been  no  attempt  at  circum 
vention  ;  facilities  rather.  The  deduction, 
obviously,  was  inadmissible.  Obviously, 
also,  there  was  something  else.  But, 
what? 

Uxhill,  casting  about,  drank  again. 
From  the  brandy  an  idea  emerged  tor 
tuously,  vaguely,  without  form  at  first, 
but  which,  little  by  little,  assumed  pro 
portions  dim  yet  monstrous, — that  Maud, 
far  from  fancying  Stella  in  league  with 
him,  was  herself  in  league  with  Stella. 

93 


VANITY   SQUARE 

In  league  for  what  he  did  not  at  the 
time  stop  to  consider.  What  he  alone 
considered  was  the  fact  that  he  knew 
nothing  whatever  about  this  girl  except 
what  Sayce  had  told,  and  the  sum  and 
substance  of  that  she  might  have  invented 
for  him. 

At  the  idea  he  entered  a  cabinet  where 
the  telephone  stood,  rang  up,  got  Sayce, 
and  asked  could  he  come  to  him. 

Sayce  said  he  would.  Uxhill  turned 
away. 

The  sheer  contrast  between  the  girl's 
position  and  appearance  had  necessarily 
occurred  to  him  before,  but  not  as  it  then 
did,  revealing  suddenly  inordinate  possi 
bilities,  and  among  them  the  idea  that 
for  some  reason,  at  present  elusive  but 
perhaps  presently  apprehensible,  she  had 
first  got  Maud  to  go,  and  then,  while  ar 
ranging  to  join  her,  had  stayed  behind  to 
throw  dust  in  his  eyes.  In  what  manner, 

94 


VANITY   SQUARE 

through  what  lures  and  wiles,  she  had  in 
duced  Maud  to  go  at  all,  was,  indeed,  in 
comprehensible  ;  yet,  was  not  the  entire 
episode  so  extraordinary  that  only  the 
most  extravagant  conjecture  could  hit 
it? 

Besides, — for  here  was  a  matter  which 
until  then  he  had  not  recalled, — the  con 
jecture,  however  extravagant,  elucidated 
the  tears  of  the  morning.  By  what  had 
they  been  induced  except  by  regret  ? 
The  plot  to  leave  him  must  have  been 
long  conceived.  When  he  had  pressed 
her  hand  as  it  lay  on  the  silk  there  had 
been  an  answering  pressure  from  it. 
The  tears  were  tears  of  remorse  at  what 
she  was  planning  to  do,  and  the  pressure 
of  her  hand  on  his  meant  that  he  was  to 
forgive  and  forget  her. 

Yet,  what  was  he  to  forgive,  and  why 
forget?  Assuming  that  it  was  all  as  it 
appeared, — that  she  had,  indeed,  arranged 

95 


VANITY  SQUARE 

to  go  with  that  girl,  why  had  she  done  so, 
and  where? 

Where,  indeed !  Before  his  imagi 
nation  could  vagabond  again,  a  servant, 
announcing  Sayce,  appeared. 

"How  are  we?"  said  the  physician, 
who,  however,  had  an  air  of  knowing 
pretty  well  in  advance. 

Although  the  servant  knew,  too,  it  was 
not  until  the  man  was  out  of  hearing  that 
Uxhill  spoke. 

"  My  wife  has  left  me." 

At  this,  Sayce,  who  had  been  standing, 
sat  down,  and  Uxhill,  who  had  been  seated, 
stood  up. 

"She  has  taken  Mowgy  and,  I  fancy, 
Miss  Sixmith,  unless  it  should  appear 
that  Miss  Sixmith  took  them." 

Sayce,  always  red  in  the  face,  got,  if 
possible,  redder.  He  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"You  have  been  drinking,"  he  an 
nounced,  though  not  at  all  by  way  of  ac- 

96 


VANITY  SQUARE 

cusation, — as  a  statement  simply,  one 
which,  an  effect  produced,  disclosed  the 
cause. 

"Yes,"  Uxhill  answered.  "A  thim 
bleful  or  two.  But,  I  did  not  begin  until 
they  had  gone.  Moreover,  I  am  not 
drunk.  I  wish  I  were." 

"  No  ;  not  that,  perhaps.  But,  certainly 
not  yourself.  Otherwise,  not  for  a  mo 
ment  would  you  connect  a  noble,  true- 
hearted  girl  with  a  matter  unfortunate 
enough  already.  Not  ten  minutes  ago, 
when  you  called  me  up/she  had  just  told 
me  of  it.  She  feels  it  keenly,  not  only  on 
your  account,  who  have  spoken  of  her  so 
outrageously,  but  because  of  Mrs.  Uxhill." 

"Ah!"  said  Uxhill.  He  found  but 
that.  Yet,  then  the  sense  of  desertion 
had  increased.  Sayce's  outburst  had 
carried  away  his  only  theory.  "As  a 
matter  of  fact,"  he  added  lamely,  "I 
don't  now  quite  see  how  I  did  come  to 

7  97 


VANITY   SQUARE 

suspect  her.  But,  I  did  not  suspect,  either, 
that  you  would  take  it  so  to  heart." 

"I  could  not  help  myself,"  Sayce,  fum 
ing  still,  replied.  "  If  you  knew  her  as  I 
do,  you  would  know,  too,  that  there  is  not 
any  one  anywhere  with  ideals  loftier  than 
hers.  But,  no  matter  about  that.  Do 
you  want  me  to  advise  you  ?" 

"  Advise  me !  I  wish  to  God  you 
would." 

11  Get  the  police  to  find  the  cabman — " 

"  And  have  it  all  in  the  papers?" 

"  It  will  probably  get  there  anyway. 
No  ;  find  the  cabman ;  then  you  will  know, 
if  not  where  they  are,  at  least  where  they 
have  gone,  after  which  you  will  be  the 
best  judge  of  what  to  do." 

"You  see,"  said  Uxhill,  "what  I  don't 
understand  is,  why  they  are  anywhere 
but  here." 

At  the  table  before  him,  Sayce  looked 
down,  and  on  it  with  his  fingers  beat  a 

98 


VANITY   SQUARE 

brief  tattoo.  But,  shortly  he  looked  up  at 
Uxhill. 

"  You  remember,  do  you  not,  my  tell 
ing  you  that  your  wife  had  something  on 
her  mind?" 

"  I  do.  But,  if  you  mean  by  that,  that 
what  she  had  there  was  a  man,  you  are 
wrong.  She  is  not  that  kind." 

Sayce  nodded.  "The  mind  has  many 
a  cellar.  In  them  strange  tenants  prowl. 
Tenants  so  strange  that,  for  lack  of  a 
better  term,  we  call  them  secondary  per 
sonalities.  Frequently  they  are  inert. 
You  only  know  that  they  are  about  when 
they  make  you  wonder  why  you  did  this, 
or  why  you  said  that.  But,  in  certain 
cases  of  shock,  of  cerebral  excitement, — 
in  other  cases,  too,  of  which  the  causes  are 
more  obscure, — from  inert  they  become 
active  and  produce  just  such  mys 
terious  disappearances  as  that  of  your 
wife." 

99 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Significantly  Uxhill  tapped  his  forehead. 
"  You  mean  that  she — " 

"I  mean  that  there  are  men,  and  also 
women,  who  develop  a  sort  of  spontane 
ous  somnambulism  in  which  their  former 
individuality  lapses  and  a  new  one  ap 
pears, — an  individuality  so  distinct  from 
the  former  that  it  requires  and  leads  a 
totally  different  life.  From  certain  indi 
cations  which  Miss  Sixmith  observed, 
and  which  she  reported  to  me,  I  might 
attribute  your  wife's  disappearance  to 
that,  were  it  not  that  she  took  the  child,  a 
nurse  for  the  child  as  well.  In  cases  of 
this  kind  such  forethought  is  unusual. 
Even  so  it  does  not  invalidate  the  possi 
bility.  There  is  nothing  that  is  not 
possible.  The  impossible  is  a  term 
which  psychology  long  since  dropped  from 
its  lexicon.  Hence,  therefore,  my  sugges 
tion  about  the  cabman.  Damn  the  papers  ! 

Supposing  the  facts  do  appear?      They 
100 


VANITY   SQUARE 

are  not  to  your  wife's  discredit.  She  is 
not  a  free  agent,  and,  beside  her  welfare, 
what  is  a  little  talk?" 

''Nothing.  Nothing  at  all.  Only  I 
don't  like  the  idea  of  the  police.  I  would 
rather  not  have  them.  I  don't  know 
whether  you  appreciate,  but — " 

"  I  do  appreciate.  Leave  it  to  me.  I 
know  of  a  man  on  whom  we  can  rely. 
He  thinks  I  saved  his  life.  I  did  not,  but 
I  have  omitted  to  disabuse  him  of  the 
idea.  Let  me  see  if  I  can  get  him.  " 

Sayce  went  to  the  telephone.  Uxhill 
ambled  out  into  the  adjoining  room.  Be 
hind  the  theory  which  Sayce  had  pre 
sented  there  lay,  of  course,  the  intimation 
that  Maud  was  out  of  her  head.  Yet, 
otherwise  could  she  have  left  him  as  she 
had  ?  Of  course,  she  was  out  of  her  head, 
he  told  himself.  But,  he  told  himself,  too, 
that  when  he  found  her  he  would  call  her 

back. 

101 


VANITY   SQUARE 

This  project  Sayce  interrupted.  "  He 
is  not  in.  But  his  wife  is.  She  tells  me 
he  is  sure  to  be  home  for  supper,  and  that 
then  she  will  send  him  to  me.  I  will  go 
now  to  my  office.  When  he  comes  I  will 
set  him  to  work  at  once." 

Uxhill  put  a  hand  in  a  pocket.  "  Tell 
him  that  expense  is  of  no  moment.  I 
have  not  much  with  me,  but  give  him 
this/' 

A  small  roll  of  big  bills  which  was  then 
produced  Sayce  waved  back. 

"  He  won't  require  anything  at  present. 
When  he  does  you  shall  know." 


102 


IX. 


C  AYCE  gone,  up  and  down  the  draw 
ing-room  Uxhill  stalked,  feverishly, 
like  a  stricken  animal  that  is  trying  to 
get  away  from  its  wound  and  from  itself. 

The  possibility  which  Sayce  had  evoked, 
and  which,  while  Sayce  was  there,  he  had 
accepted,  fell  away.  It  seemed  to  him 
stupid.  On  the  subject  of  insanity  he 
was  not  particularly  posted,  but  he  took 
it  for  granted  that  it  does  not  nail  you 
like  that.  In  all  the  years  of  his  life 
with  Maud  not  once  had  she  exhibited  an 
eccentricity  of  demeanor. 

From  what  he  had  read  and  remembered 
he  rather  felt  that  there  must  be  a  pre 
liminary  impairment  of  the  brain,  a  pre 
disposition  due  to  heredity,  to  some 
long  strain  or  sudden  shock.  In  the  ab- 

103 


VANITY   SQUARE 

sence  of  something  of  that  kind,  people 
do  not,  he  assured  himself,  go  mad, 
causelessly,  in  five  minutes.  Sayce,  of 
course,  had  not  said  she  was  mad  ;  at 
least,  not  in  so  many  words.  But,  the 
phrases  in  which  the  hint  was  enveloped 
amounted  to  that.  He  had  talked  about 
a  form  of  somnambulism  in  which  the  in 
dividual  evaporates  and  another  appears. 

Though  Uxhill  had  swallowed  the  state 
ment,  he  found  now  that  it  would  not 
digest.  Metaphorically  he  threw  it  up. 
In  fiction  it  might  go  down.  Unfor 
tunately,  this  was  not  fiction, — it  was 
fact.  Yet,  a  fact,  he  immediately  re 
flected,  more  inexplicable  than  any  that 
the  fiction  with  which  he  was  familiar 
could  show. 

In  an  effort  to  solve  the  enigma  ot  it, 
to  get  at  the  core  of  the  thing  and  find 
there  the  Why,  up  and  down  the  room 

he    strode,     reviewing    the   past,     inter 
ior 


VANITY   SQUARE 

rogating  the  future,  floundering  in  a  sea 
of  memories  and  conjectures,  his  mind 
tossed  by  a  storm  of  doubts  in  which  he 
tried  to  see  light  somewhere,  tried  and 
failed, — tortured  the  while  by  the  two 
great  dissolvents,  uncertainty  and  sus 
pense. 

Above,  on  the  ceiling,  the  cupids 
lounged  and  laughed.  It  was  only  a 
little  before  that  he  had  been  yawning  at 
them.  It  was  only  a  little  before  that,  at 
the  piano  there,  Maud  had  been  playing 
a  gavotte,  and  in  the  pauses  of  the  dance 
he  had  been  urging  a  folding  of  tents, 
an  escape  to  the  blue  of  other  skies. 
But,  no;  she  had  preferred  her  home. 
Now  she  had  left  it.  Yet,  why  ? 

Always  Uxhill  got  back  to  that.  In  the 
desolateness  of  the  recurrent  query  he 
dropped  on  a  sofa. 

Someone  came,  asking  would  he  dress, 
and  getting  no  answer,  departed.  Some- 

105 


VANITY   SQUARE 

one  returned,  telling  him  dinner  was 
served.  But,  if  Uxhill  heard,  he  did  not 
heed.  He  sat  in  a  heap,  staring  at 
nothing  ;  hungry,  indeed,  but  only  for  an 
answer  to  that  Why. 

Again  someone  came.  Uxhill  looked 
up.  Sayce  was  before  him. 

"A  lady  has  been  found,"  Sayce  an 
nounced.  "I  presume  that  another  will 
be." 

He  paused,  eyeing  Uxhill.  Then  he 
added,  "  On  leaving  here  I  found  our 
man,  told  him  what  had  occurred.  He 
went  off  with  his  nose  to  the  ground. 
Ten  minutes  ago  he  telephoned  me  that 
he  was  on  the  trail.  I  told  him  that  if  he 
got  to  where  it  led  to,  to-night,  to  tele 
phone  here." 

Uxhill  stood  up.  Time  must  have 
touched  him.  He  looked  worn  and  gray. 

"  I  misunderstood  you.  For  a  moment 
I  thought  you  meant  Maud." 

106 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"I  said  a  lady,"  Sayce  answered,  eye 
ing  Uxhill  as  before.  "  But  not  this 
lady.  It  is  Mrs.  Besalul  who  has  been 
found.  In  a  rose-garden  on  the  Pacific, 
if  you  please,  and  with  a  person  whom 
no  one  had  ever  heard  of." 

"  A  secondary  person,  I  suppose.  Do 
you  know,  Sayce,  I  have  been  thinking 
that  over.  Whatever  may  or  may  not  be 
the  matter  with  Maud,  it  is  not  that.  She 
hadn't  a  vagary  to  her  name." 

Sayce  smiled.  "  So  you  think,  forget 
ting  that  you  yourself  told  me  that  she 
had  a  marked  aversion  to  going  anywhere. 
That  is  more  than  a  vagary.  It  is  a  dis 
order,  one  of  the  many  phobies  that 
pathology  has  learned  to  recognize,  and 
to  which,  in  sheer  elation,  perhaps,  it  has 
given  Greek  names.  There  is  oiko- 
phobia,  which  is  the  antithesis  of  your 
wife's  aversion.  Oikophobia  is  the 
dread  of  going  home.  You  may  have 

107 


VANITY   SQUARE 

noticed  cases  of  it  in  club-land.  Then 
there  is  phronemophobia,  or  dread  of 
thought,  which  I  have  noticed  in  Vanity 
Square.  Then,  too,  there  are  the  antip 
athies  for  open  places,  for  closed  places, 
for  heights,  complicated  occasionally  by 
dread  of  boats  and  cars.  These  phobies 
are  obsessions.  Generally  they  are  be 
nign.  But  sometimes  they  become  acute. 
They  lead  to  what  we  call  fixed  ideas. 
The  presence  of  an  idea  fixed,  but  erron 
eous,  is  one  of  the  tests  of  dementia." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  a  vagary  of  this 
kind  induces  the  spontaneous  somnam 
bulism  of  which  you  spoke?" 

"  By  no  means.  But  the  presence  of 
the  one  is  not  incompatible  with  the 
appearance  of  the  other.  On  the  con 
trary." 

"  All  the  same,"  said  Uxhill  dropping 
wearily  again  on  the  sofa,  "I  cannot 
credit  it." 

108 


VANITY    SQUARE 

"You  cannot  credit  what?"  Sayce 
asked,  as  he  also  sat  down. 

"  Secondary  personality.  Have  you 
ever  met  a  case  of  it  in  your  practice?" 

"  In  my  own,  no.  But  in  the  practice 
of  others,  yes.  I  met,  for  instance,  a  Miss 
Marchbanks.  This  young  woman,  who  is 
collectively  known  as  the  Misses  March- 
banks,  has  successively  disclosed  six  dis 
tinct  personalities.  If  ever,  like  some  of 
my  colleagues,  I  go  in  for  writing  novels, 
there  would  be  the  type  I  would  take. 
In  fiction,  as  you  get  it  to-day,  a  man  more 
often  than  not  is  discovered  wearying  of 
one  lady  and  falling  in  love  with  another. 
The  occurrence  is  common,  and  therefore 
trite.  Nevertheless,  a  proper  apprecia 
tion  of  our  national  hypocrisy  curbs  any 
desire  on  the  part  of  the  fabulist  to  make 
the  man  in  love  with  both.  No  right- 
thinking  reader  would  stand  for  that. 
But,  what  opportunities  there  would  be 

109 


VANITY   SQUARE 

were  the  hero,  when  wearying  of  the  her 
oine,  to  fall  in  love  with  a  secondary  per 
sonality  whom,  conveniently,  she  had  de 
veloped,  and  so  on  through  successive 
multiplications  of  herself?  A  story  such 
as  that  would  provide  a  rational  inter 
pretation  of  paradise.  Mohammed,  you 
know,  promised  the  faithful  a  fresh  houri 
every  day.  Every  day  is,  perhaps,  ex 
cessive.  We  may  assume  that  the  faith 
ful  could  diet  if  they  chose.  But,  a  story 
of  this  kind  would  show  that  paradise  is 
realizable  here.  It  would  show  that,  but 
win  the  hand  of  a  multiple  lady,  and  there 
you  are." 

"  You  would  hardly  be  there  with 
Miss  Sixmith,"  Uxhill,  with  curious  in- 
appositeness,  remarked.  "  Nor  I,"  he 
added,  "with  Maud." 

"  Miss  Sixmith !"  Sayce  exclaimed, 
"has  a  nature  that  is  at  once  very  simple 

and    very    direct.       It    could    no    more 
no 


VANITY   SQUARE 

deviate  than  could  a  star  from  its 
course.  But — "  he  paused,  a  finger 
raised.  "  Isn't  that  the  telephone?" 

He  stood  up.  Uxhill  got  up  also. 
Together  they  went  to  the  cabinet  be 
yond. 

'•Here,"  Uxhill  said,  after  a  moment, 
handing  as  he  spoke  the  receiver  to 
Sayce.  "It  is  for  you." 

uls  that  you,  John?"  Sayce  called. 
-Well?" 

A  moment  elapsed,  another  passed. 
Then  the  physician,  putting  the  receiver 
down,  turned  to  Uxhill. 

"  Your  wife  and  child  left  for  Boston 
on  the  three-o'clock  to-day." 

Surprise  lifted  Uxhill  visibly  like  a 
lash.  "The  devil!  She  has  gone  to 
her  father."  Then  vexation  sank  him. 
"But,"  he  cried,  "they  have  not  spoken 
in  years.  What  did  she  go  to  him  for  ?" 

Yet  manifestly  he  was  pleased.     In  his 
ill 


VANITY  SQUARE 

tired  eyes   was  a   smile,    weary  and  re 
lieved. 

Sayce  consulted  his  watch.  "  It  is  late — 
for  Boston.  It  seems  to  me,  though,  that — " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  Uxhill,  divining  what 
he  was  about  to  suggest,  exclaimed,  "I 
will  call  them  up." 

It  was  a  little,  though,  before  the  num 
ber  could  be  got,  a  little  more  before  the 
connection  was  made.  Finally  he  called  : 
"  Is  this  Bishop  Upjohn 's  ?  Yes  ;  very 
good.  I  am  Mr.  Uxhill.  Please  tell  Mrs. 
Uxhill  that  I  want  to  speak  to  her." 

He  turned  to  Sayce.  "  It  is  all  right. 
Whoever  is  at  the  other  end  says,  hold 
the  wire." 

Uxhill  did  hold  it.  He  held  it  until  he 
found  that  he  had  been  rung  off.  As 
suming  a  mistake,  he  asked  for  the  con 
nection  again,  desisting  only  when,  after 
repeated  calls,  he  was  told  that  they  did 
not  answer. 

112 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Whether  by  "they"  was  meant  the 
bishop  or  Maud,  or  both,  or  whoever  had 
answered  in  the  first  instance,  was, 
of  course,  uncertain.  There  remained, 
though,  a  fact  which  at  once  consoled  and 
irked,  the  fact  that  you  can  be  audible  to 
people  who  are  not  audible  to  you.  It 
made  him  feel  like  a  blind  man  talk 
ing  to  a  deaf  mute, — a  man,  purposely 
blinded,  talking  to  one  whose  deafness 
and  muteness  were  assumed. 

But,  as  Sayce  had  said,  it  was  late — for 
Boston.  Besides,  Maud,  tired  by  the  trip, 
presumably  had  gone  to  bed.  Nonethe 
less,  the  balm  of  the  sudden  relief,  after 
the  torture  of  the  long  suspense,  was 
rather  impaired.  It  was  as  though  just 
as  he  was  putting  a  hand  on  Maud,  she 
had  evaporated. 

Uxhill  felt  cheated.  What  he  felt  he 
looked.  What  he  looked,  Sayce  saw, 

and,  seeing,  prescribed  for. 
8  113 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  It  is  eleven-thirty.  There  is  a  train 
at  midnight.  Take  it.  Anything  is  bet 
ter  than  inaction." 

By  way  of  answering  Uxhill  pressed  a 
button. 

In  reply  Patmore  appeared.  "Will 
you  dine,  sir?" 

"  Get  some  things  into  a  bag,  enough 
for  a  day  or  two,  and  have  a  cab  here  at 
once." 

"Yes,  sir;  thank  you,  sir.  But,  won't 
you  eat  anything  at  all,  sir?" 

Uxhill  turned  on  his  heel.  Patmore 
disappeared. 

When  presently  he  reappeared  it  was 
to  say  that  the  bag  was  on  the  cab,  and 
the  latter  at  the  door. 

In  the  interim  Sayce  scrawled  a  note. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  "is  something  for 
you.  There  is  not  a  chance  in  a  hundred 
that  you  will  need  it.  But  should  the 
chance  occur  it  may  be  handy." 

114 


TN  Beacon  Street,  the  next  morning, 
Uxhill  was  standing  at  the  door  of  a 
little  house.  After  the  metallic  roar  of 
New  York  the  calm  of  Boston  is  seda 
tive. 

Uxhill  did  not  notice  it.  On  arriving 
a  few  hours  previous,  he  had  gone  to  a 
hotel  and  had  tried  to  sleep.  On  the 
train  he  had  been  unable  to.  Hitherto, 
once  his  head  on  the  pillow  and  he  was 
off,  immediately,  for  a  ten-hour  stretch. 
Such  a  thing  as  not  getting  to  sleep  was 
a  novelty,  a  strange  one,  as  now  every 
thing  else  was.  But  at  the  hotel  he  had 
seen  a  little  man,  with  sneering  eyes,  who 
appeared  to  be  making  faces  at  him. 
The  little  man  vanished  vaporously  as  he 

had  come.     Uxhill  awoke.     He  had  slept 
115 


VANITY    SQUARE 

fully  ten  minutes.  Then  he  tubbed  abun 
dantly,  ordered  coffee,  dressed  leisurely, 
and,  going  forth  to  a  shop  on  the  Com 
mon,  got  some  toys,  got  a  cab  for  them. 
Now  he  was  at  the  door  of  a  house  in 
which  there  was  a  telephone  that  at  times 
did  not  answer. 

The  door  opened.  On  the  wide  flag 
ging  of  the  hall  a  maid  stood,  aproned 
and  capped,  very  white  in  her  gingham. 

"This  is  Bishop  Upjohn's,  is  it  not? 
Yes.  Will  you  please  say  to  Mrs.  Uxhill 
that  Mr.  Uxhill  is  here." 

Retreating  before  him,  the  maid  reached 
a  room  at  the  left  of  the  hall,  in  which, 
though  she  said  nothing,  he  inferred  that 
he  was  to  wait.  There  a  window  gave 
on  the  street  and  from  it  he  looked  out. 
But,  while  he  had  not  noticed  the  quiet 
of  that  street,  he  noticed  now  the  quiet 
of  this  house.  It  was  soundless.  Mowgy, 
he  reflected,  would  ruffle  it.  At  thought 

116 


VANITY  SQUARE 

of  her,  he  remembered  the  toys  and 
looked  at  the  cab  where  they  were. 

-Mr.  Uxhill,  I  believe?" 

Noiselessly  there  had  entered  a  man, 
in  undertaker  black,  with  a  high  clerical 
waistcoat,  a  thin  face,  and  inquiring  eyes. 
He  was  rubbing  his  hands,  his  back  a 
trifle  bent,  his  head  a  bit  to  one  side,  in 
an  attitude  jesuitically  civil. 

' 'The  bishop  charges  me  to  say  that 
he  is  unable  to  receive  you." 

Uxhill  started.  "  No  one  wants  him 
to.  I  did  not  come  for  him.  I  came  for 
my  wife." 

"Quite  so.  But  Mrs.  Uxhill  is  not 
here." 

"  She  was  here  last  night." 

"  Regarding  that  I  have  no  information." 

"  You  mean  you  have  none  for  me. 
What  is  your  name,  sir  ?  " 

"Wix." 

"  Wix,  is  it  ?  Well,  Mr.  Wix,  I  charge 
117 


VANITY  SQUARE 

you  to  tell  the  bishop  that  I  am  at  the 
Touraine,  and  that  if,  within  an  hour,  I  do 
not  receive  information  regarding  my 
wife  and  my  child,  I  shall  proceed  against 
him  for  harboring  the  one  and  seques 
trating  the  other." 

At  this,  Mr.  Wix,  who  was  still  rubbing 
his  hands,  smiled  and  arched  his  eye 
brows.  It  seemed  to  Uxhill  that  he 
curiously  resembled  the  little  man  who 
had  come  to  him  in  dream.  But,  obvi 
ously,  everything  there  was  to  say  had 
been  said.  He  made  for  the  hall  and  to 
the  door,  yet  that  door  Wix  reached 
before  him. 

11  Permit  me,"  he  said,  his  eyebrows 
arched,  smiling  still,  and  opened  it. 
"  Good  morning,"  he  said  as  Uxhill 
passed  out,  and  noiselessly  behind  him 
closed  it. 

Uxhill  told  the  cabman  to  go  to  the 
hotel,  and  got  in  among  the  toys. 

118 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Here  was  a  fresh  kettle  of  fish.  He 
felt  as  men  do  who  have  taken  cannabis 
indica.  Everything  that  was  not  out  of 
proportion  was  blurred.  Matters  of 
supreme  importance  were  occurring, 
matters  of  which  he  was  the  starting- 
point,  matters  that  concerned  him  vitally  ; 
and  yet,  between  him  and  them,  was  an 
interposition  intangible  and  malign  that 
shrouded  what  it  did  not  distort. 

To  the  enigma  of  Maud's  disappear 
ance  was  superposed  the  puzzle  of  the 
bishop's  affront.  Uxhill  knew  well  enough 
that  if  Maud  had  not  gone  to  her  father, 
then  the  mere  fact  of  his  inquiring  for 
her  would  have  demonstrated  that  there 
was  a  screw  loose  ;  to  the  adjustment  of 
which,  the  bishop,  however  at  odds  with 
him,  would  have  joined.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  Maud  had  not  gone  to  her  father, 
it  was  nevertheless  clear  that  the  latter 
knew  where  she  had  gone,  and  knew 

119 


VANITY   SQUARE 

also  the  Why.  One  person,  therefore, 
who  was  behind  the  scenes  refused  to 
come  out. 

-But,"  Uxhill  muttered,  "by  God,  I'll 
make  him." 

At  the  moment,  he  regretted  that  the 
restraining  conventionalities  which  dwarf 
us  all  had  prevented  him  from  forcing 
his  way  to  the  bishop  and  compelling 
him  to  disgorge.  But  the  enervating 
civility  of  Wix,  who  had  managed  to  be 
both  obsequious  and  insolent,  had  exas 
perated  him.  Instead  of  going  to  work, 
he  had  dissolved  into  threats. 

Anything  of  that  kind  is  always  very 
stupid.  But  it  is,  perhaps,  stupider  to 
make  threats  and  then  omit  to  enforce 
them.  Particularly,  if  you  have  the 
ability.  The  ability  was  in  Uxhill' s 
pocket.  He  got  out  the  letter  which 
Sayce  had  given  him  and  redirected  the 

cabman  to  the  address  that  it  bore.     The 
120 


VANITY  SQUARE 

address  was  that  of  Tatum  &  Tate, 
attorneys  and  counsellors-at-law,  neither 
of  whom,  when  Uxhill  reached  their  office, 
happened  to  be  about. 

Uxhill  waited.  The  office,  dingy  and 
green,  lighted  by  gas,  the  walls  wains 
coted  with  high  shelves  of  brown  books, 
was  tenanted  by  two  clerks,  a  small  boy 
and  a  girl.  On  one  side  was  a  door  with 
a  glass  panel,  on  which  was  inscribed 
"  Mr.Tatum."  Opposite  was  another  door 
dedicated  to  Mr.  Tate.  As  Uxhill  sat, 
the  girl  looked  at  him  covertly  from  a 
typewriter.  To  her,  with  his  worldly  air, 
his  handsome  head,  his  appearance  indic 
ative  of  all  the  accessories  of  wealth,  he 
seemed  to  have  stepped  from  a  story. 
Rather  a  sad  one,  had  she  known,  which, 
of  course,  she  did  not,  and  she  told  herself 
how  "  elegant"  it  would  be  to  have  him 
for  beau. 

Of  these  sentiments,  Uxhill  was  entirely 
121 


VANITY  SQUARE 

unconscious.  In  his  heart  was  anger,  in 
his  head  an  ache.  He  got  up,  strode 
about,  examining  the  books,  until  finally 
he  found  himself  contemplating  the  small 
boy,  who  was  telling  him  that  Mr.  Tatum 
was  in. 

Mr.  Tatum  was  a  large,  fierce  man, 
who  looked  like  a  chuckerout ,  and  whose 
voice,  which  was  infantile  in  its  gentle 
ness,  contrasted  almost  tragically  with 
the  aggressiveness  of  his  appearance. 

"  And  so,"  he  lisped,  when  Uxhill  had 
told  him  what  there  was  to  tell,  "you 
would  like  to  have  Bishop  Upjohn 
hanged.  That  is  the  proper  spirit.  But 
we  have  no  evidence.  We  have  only 
hearsay  and  supposition.  Your  wife 
may  or  may  not  be  in  Boston.  If  we 
can  learn  that  she  is  in  Beacon  Street, 
the  best  course  will  be  to  get  a  writ  and 
send  it  with  a  sheriff.  If  Mrs.  Uxhill  has 

any  defence,  I  presume  she  will  produce 
122 


VANITY   SQUARE 

it ;  and  if  not,  the  child  will  be  awarded 
to  you,  and  where  a  child  goes,  usually 
the  mother  follows.  But,  however  con 
soling  it  would  be  to  hang  the  bishop, 
we  cannot  do  so  at  this  minute.  Hanging, 
if  hanging  there  is  to  be,  must  come  later. 
Meanwhile,  I  enjoy  relations,  both  per 
sonal  and  professional,  with  Mr.  Forster, 
who  is  his  legal  representative.  He  will 
appreciate  the  situation,  which  is  most 
unusual ;  and  I  can  almost  guarantee  that 
he  will  aid  me  to  rearrange  it  without 
the  necessity  for  proceedings  which,  if 
possible,  it  is  always  best  to  avoid." 

"It  is  a  damned  outrage,  all  the  same," 
said  Uxhill. 

"  Now,  if  I  understand  you  correctly," 
Tatum,  in  his  purring  voice,  resumed, 
"you  are  unaware  of  any  good  and  suf 
ficient  reason  why  this  lady  should  have 
left  you." 

"  I  am  aware  of  no  reason  of  any  kind, 

123 


VANITY   SQUARE 

nature,  or  description  ;  good,  bad,  or  in 
different" 

"And — pardon  me — no  ground  for 
supposing  that  she  had  any  interest  in — 
er — well,  elsewhere?" 

"Still  less." 

"  No,"  Tatum,  after  a  brief  introspec 
tion,  soliloquized,  "women,  when  they 
elope,  don't  take  children  with  them." 
"  They  bring  them  back,"  he  was  about  to 
add,  but  he  judged  the  humor  ill-timed. 
"Now — er — yesterday,  when  you  saw 
her  last,  you  say  she  was  ill  and  in  bed  ?" 

"With  a  nurse  on  one  side  and  a 
specialist  on  the  other." 

"And  what  was  the  nature  of  her 
malady?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  of  moment;  a  slight  indis 
position.  But,  last  evening  Sayce  said 
that  a  secondary  personality  developing 
within  her  may  have  confiscated  her 
faculties." 

124 


VANITY  SQUARE 

Tatum  bowed  gravely,  as  though  such 
confiscation  were  a  thing,  like  death, 
which  no  one  may  avoid. 

"Yes,"  he  almost  cooed;  "but,  even 
so,  it  does  not  explain  the  bishop's  atti 
tude." 

"On  the  contrary,  it  aggravates  it. 
That  is  why  I  said  he  ought  to  be 
hanged." 

"And,  as  I  said,  that  is  the  proper 
spirit.  But,  perhaps,  when  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  again,  you  may 
consent  that  his  life  be  spared.  Where 
are  you  stopping?  At  the  Touraine? 
Very  good.  In  an  hour,  in  two  at  most, 
you  shall  hear  from  me." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Uxhill,  who  got 
back  to  the  cab  and  drove  to  the  hotel. 

The  toys  he  had  carried  to  his  room, 
and  among  them  he  sat,  confident  now 
that  shortly  a  line  would  come  saying 
that  the  bishop,  recognizing  the  error  of 

125 


VANITY   SQUARE 

his  ways,  was  anxious,  with  eager  apolo 
gies,  to  reunite  him  to  his  daughter. 

Or,  did  he  dream  it  ?  Anyway,  a  hall- 
boy,  announcing  Mr.  Tatum,  awoke  him. 

Uxhill  stood  up,  rubbing  his  eyes,  the 
fringes  of  the  vision  about  him.  Yet, 
when  the  lawyer  entered,  though  he 
looked  quite  as  much  like  a  prize-fighter 
as  before,  he  looked,  too,  like  a  heavy 
weight  after  an  unexpectedly  ardent 
scrimmage. 

"Mr.  Uxhill,"  he  began,  in  his  caress 
ing  voice,  "  I  fear  that  perhaps  our  friend 
Sayce  is  right.  I  am  not  an  alienist,  but 
I  will  wager  a  good  red  pippin  that  you 
are  perfectly  compos  mentis!' 

"I  certainly  am,"  said  Uxhill,  a  bit 
dashed  by  this  prelude.  "But,  why? 
Why  do  you  say  that?" 

"  Because,  if  you  are  sane,  your  wife  is 
not.  On  the  other  hand,  if  she  is  sane,  I 
lose  my  pippin." 

126 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"But,  why?  Why  do  you  say  all  this? 
Have  you  seen  her?" 

"I  have  seen  Forster,  who  has  seen 
the  bishop.  Mr.  Uxhill,  neither  your  wife 
nor  your  child  is  in  Boston.  Forster  as 
sured  me  of  that,  and  you  can  believe  him." 

"Then  where  are  they?" 

"That  I  do  not  know.  But,  though 
you  may  see  your  child  again, — for  no 
one  can  prevent  you  if  you  can  find  her, 
— I  doubt  if  you  see  your  wife." 

"What!" 

"The  bishop  told  Forster  that  on  infor 
mation  and  belief,  derived,  I  must  assume, 
from  this  lady, — for,  though  Forster  did 
not  say  it  was  so  derived,  he  intimated 
that  such  was  the  case, — on  this  informa 
tion  and  belief,  the  bishop  asserts  that 
you  are  crazy." 

"The  devil  he  did!  Damnation!  Is 
there  any  way  of  getting  him  to  put  that 

in  writing? " 

127 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"To  what  end?" 

"To  have  him  arrested  for  libel. 
Never  in  the  world  could  my  wife  have 
suggested  such  a  thing  about  me." 

Tatum  made  a  gesture.  In  it,  in  his 
voice,  too,  was  infinite  indulgence. 
"When  a  lady  leaves  her  husband,  she 
must  have  an  excuse.  It  is  not  an 
excuse,  or  hardly  a  valid  one,  to  declare 
that  he  is  everything  he  ought  to  be. 
She  must  find  something  else.  When, 
therefore,  he  is  notoriously  good  and 
kind,  invariably  she  says  that  he  is  crazy, 
and  everybody  believes  and  sympathizes 
with  her.  It  is  a  great  world." 

Uxhill  gnawed  at  his  moustache. 

"I  am  crazy,"  he  announced,  "or  she 
is.  I  said  that  at  the  start." 

"You  are  a  bit  excited,  perhaps.  But 
not  crazy.  If  you  are,  it  is  a  pity  that 
there  are  not  more  lunatics  like  you. 
Yours,  though,  is  an  extraordinary  case, 

128 


VANITY   SQUARE 

—from  one  aspect.  From  another  it  is 
quite  common.  In  domestic  life  the 
development  of  secondary  personalities 
is  more  frequent  than  you  might  suppose ; 
only  husbands  do  not,  as  a  rule,  happen 
on  such  an  exhilarating  term  for  it.  The 
term  incompatibility,  if  less  suggestive,  is 
more  exact.  Many  is  the  man  who  has 
awaked  to  the  discovery  that  he  is  married 
to  a  lady  to  whom  he  has  never  been  intro 
duced.  Without  presuming  to  intrude 
my  domestic  experiences  upon  you,  I  my 
self  have  done  so.  But,  I  have  consoled 
myself,  and  very  greatly,  with  the  reflec 
tion  that  it  is  better  for  a  man  to  have 
loved  his  wife  than  never  to  have  loved 
at  all.  Do  you  not  agree  with  me  ?  By 
the  way,  that  is  a  very  pretty  doll  that  you 
have  there." 

In  the  debris  of  the  disaster  in  which 
Uxhill  was  sinking  the  remark  was  like 
a  rope.  He  caught  at  it  and  swam  up. 

Q  129 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  Have  you  any  children?"  he  asked. 

"Ten,"  Tatum  placidly  replied. 

"Then  do  me  the  favor  to  let  me  send 
the  doll  to  you,  and  the  other  toys,  that  I 
got  for  my  little  girl.  I  do  not  want  to 
lug  them  back  to  New  York,  and  it  would 
be  distressing  to  think  of  them  as  found- 
lings." 

"They  shall  be  properly  adopted.  I 
thank  you  very  much.  My  children  will 
be  fathers  and  mothers  to  them.  But, 
did  you  intend  returning  to-day?" 

"I  do  not  see  that  I  can  do  anything 
here." 

"  Not  for  the  moment.  But  the  bishop 
is  aware  of  the  advantage  of  the  avoid 
ance  of  publicity.  Forster  will,  I  think, 
furnish  me  shortly  with  your  wife's 
address,  or  with  that  of  attorneys  with 
whom  you  may  communicate.  They 
know  that  you  won't  let  matters  rest  as 

they  are.     It  would   be    inconceivable  if 
130 


VANITY   SQUARE 

you  did.  What  they  are  after  is  the  time 
necessary  in  which  to  arrange  some 
modus  vivendi" 

"In  other  words,  they  are  sparring  for 
wind.     Now,  then,  is  the  time  to  hit." 

"If  you  could  get  them,  yes.  But  you 
can't.  We  might  possibly  badger  the 
bishop  by  instituting  a  suit  for  alienation. 
But  what  good  would  it  do?  On  the 
other  hand,  you  can,  if  you  like,  proceed 
against  your  wife  in  New  York,  get  a 
decree  of  separation  and  the  custody  of 
the  child.  But,  I  think  that  what  you 
have  chiefly  to  consider  is,  that  disappear 
ances  are  deceptive.  Barring  the  fact 
that  the  bishop  says  that  you  are  crazy, 
and  Sayce  says  your  wife  is, — and  you 
say  that  one  or  the  other  is  right, — there 
is  nothing  to  explain  the  present  situa 
tion,  and  I  take  it  there  will  be  nothing 
until  Forster  comes  to  me,  which  he  may 

do  to-morrow." 

131 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"If  he  does,  you  will  inform  me?" 

"You  may  rely  on  it." 

Then  presently  Tatum  withdrew,  and 
shortly  Uxhill  was  whirling  back  to  New 
York,  where  a  bill  for  services  rendered 
whirled  after  him. 

It  was  some  time,  though,  before  he 
could  attend  to  it. 


132 


XI. 


TN  certain  conditions  a  trip  on  a  train  is 
not  a  sedative.  When  to  these  con 
ditions  is  added  the  conviction  of  de 
feat,  a  journey  may  become  demoralizing. 
On  the  way  back  to  New  York,  Uxhill 
was  at  once  conscious  of  defeat,  and  con 
scious  also  that  the  consciousness  of  de 
feat  comes,  when  come  it  does,  always 
from  within.  A  man  who  is  a  man  should 
never  know  that  he  is  beaten.  Though 
he  suspect  it,  he  should  never  admit  it, 
even — and  particularly — to  himself. 

Uxhill,  aware  of  that,  fought  against  any 
idea  of  being  downed.  But,  circumstances 
were  against  him.  He  had  gone  to  Bos 
ton  with  what  amounted  to  a  certainty  that, 
no  matter  what  surprises  awaited  him,  at 
least  he  would  know  where  he  was,  and, 

133 


VANITY   SQUARE 

so  knowing,  know  also  what  to  do.  In 
stead  of  which,  not  only  was  the  Why  as 
intangible  as  ever, — its  poignancy  was  in 
tensified  by  the  attitude  of  the  bishop. 
The  latter's  age,  his  cloth,  his  eminence, 
the  fact  that  he  was  Maud's  father,  not 
one  of  these  things  would  have  protected 
him  had  he  been  on  that  train. 

Uxhill  felt  quite  murderously  toward 
him,  yet  far  less  because  of  what  he  had 
said  than  because  of  what  he  had  not. 
He  had  been  vastly  annoyed  at  the 
charges  which  Tatum  had  brought,  but 
the  annoyance,  however  vast,  was  slight 
by  comparison  with  his  anger  at  the 
bishop  for  not  disgorging  the  Why. 

That  is  what  he  wanted,  that  and 
nothing  else.  It  was  for  that  he  had 
gone  to  Boston,  and  to  come  away  with 
out  it  spelled  something  like  defeat. 
Mentally  he  ravened,  and  for  a  while  lost 
himself  in  the  rememoration  of  strange 

134 


VANITY   SQUARE 

tortures  and  of  the  pleasure  that  it  would 
give  him  to  see  the  bishop  undergoing 
the  strangest  and  most  torturesome  of 
the  lot. 

The  evil  mood  passed.  A  gentleman, 
it  has  been  said,  should  be  too  indolent 
to  bear  malice.  Uxhill  was  a  poor  hater. 
With  the  landscapes  through  which  the 
train  shot  the  evil  mood  sank  back. 
After  all.  he  subsequently  told  himself, 
were  a  man  to  elope  with  a  daughter  of 
his,  as  he  had  eloped  with  the  bishop's, 
he  might  not  feel  conversationally  in 
clined  to  him,  either.  Then,  too,  from  what 
he  knew  of  the  bishop,  it  was  quite  on  the 
cards  that  he  should  regard  Maud's  flight 
as  the  just  retribution  of  his  sins.  But, 
though  the  evil  mood  passed,  this  emi 
nently  benign  view  was  not  reached  until 
many  other  things  had  supervened.  It 
is  not  easy  to  be  philosophic  all  at  once. 
At  the  time  the  mood  was  helped  away 

135 


VANITY   SQUARE 

by  the  realization  that  the  bishop  at  most, 
or  at  worst,  was  but  an  accessory  before 
the  fact, — that  the  real  criminal  was  not 
he  ;  it  was  Maud. 

Yet,  why  was  she  that  ?  Why  had  she 
done  what  she  had  ?  To  know,  to  get  at 
the  truth,  though  truth  were  an  acid,  he 
would  have  drained  it.  However  it  cor 
roded,  the  pain  would  be  less  acute 
than  the  disintegrating  agony  of  sus 
pense. 

Truth  should  be  charming  or  else  with 
held.  But,  charming  or  otherwise,  it  was 
not  forthcoming  then.  Only  a  vulgar 
whiskey  and  soda  was  obtainable  for  the 
thirst  of  this  man,  outwearied  by  twenty- 
four  hours  of  ceaseless  emotion. 

Truth  was  not  apprehensible  then. 
But,  later,  through  processes  devious  and 
contradictory,  which  he  could  neither  co 
ordinate  nor  comprehend,  into  the  depths 
of  his  tired  being  there  filtered  the  con- 

136 


VANITY   SQUARE 

viction  that  somehow,  in  some  way,  it  was 
all  unreal. 

An  idea,  not  similar  but  cognate,  he 
had  found  himself  entertaining  at  the 
start.  But  that  idea  was  due  to  sheer 
bewilderment.  It  was  an  idea  like  that 
which  visits  the  absent-minded  who  have 
an  object  in  their  hand  one  minute  and 
cannot  find  it  there  the  next.  They 
know  that  it  cannot  have  dematerialized. 
They  know  that  presently  it  will  turn  up 
under  their  nose.  Because  Maud's  dis 
appearance  had  been  utterly  inexpli 
cable,  Uxhill,  for  that  very  reason,  felt  that 
it  must  shortly  be  explained. 

But  that  feeling  had  gone.  In  its 
place  came  an  apperception,  at  first 
opaque  and  elusive,  yet  gradually  tan 
gible  and  more  clear,  that  all  that  had 
occurred,  all  that  was  occurring,  were 
but  pictures  floating  by,  pictures  pictur 
ing  nothing,  images  without  significance, 
137 


VANITY   SQUARE 

dreams   woven  together  in  a  dream  of 
themselves. 

At  this  conception,  Uxhill  marvelled. 
It  seemed  to  him  chimerical.  But,  in 
certain  crises,  we  get  used  to  chimeras. 
The  soul  makes  itself  at  home  with  what 
it  must.  When  the  soul  of  Uxhill  did 
accustom  itself  to  this  ideal  idealism,  Ux 
hill  himself  was  in  New  York. 

On  leaving  Boston  he  had  wired  Pat- 
more.  On  reaching  town  a  groom  met 
him,  took  his  bag,  piloted  him  to  the 
brougham,  scaled  the  box,  saw  him  to  his 
house. 

The  house  was   quite  as  he  had  left  it, 
only,  while  his  hopes  had  been  diminish 
ing,   its  desolation   had  increased.     And 
why  was  it  desolate  ?     Ah,   dear  God,  if 
he  only  knew ! 

It  was  not  in  search  of  an  answer,  it 
was  for  the  mere  companionship  of 
familiar  things,  for  the  atmosphere  which 

138 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Maud  had  breathed,  that,  after  a  futile 
effort  at  eating  something,  he  went  to 
her  'room,  went  from  it  to  Mowgy's, 
looked  at  the  spectral  crib,  at  the  little 
things  infinitely  precious  which  she 
allowed  no  one  to  touch,  thought  of  the 
incredible  tales  he  had  improvised  for  her 
there,  and  wandered  back  to  Maud's 
room, .  where  other  things  held  for  him 
the  pain  which  only  such  things  in  such 
circumstances  can  hold, — the  pain  made  of 
memories  and  regrets. 

The  top  of  the  dressing-table,  pre 
viously  covered  with  futilities  in  gold, 
was  bare.  A  drawer  beneath  it,  which 
sometimes  he  had  seen  Maud  open,  and 
which,  on  such  occasions,  always  had 
been  filled,  was  bare,  too,  entirely  empty, 
save  for  a  little  book. 

For  the  solace  of  handling  what  she 
had  held,  he  took  it  up.  It  was  a 
volume  of  verse.  He  turned  the  pages 

139 


VANITY   SQUARE 

and  read  that  Joy  should  be  majestic, 
equable,  sedate.  But,  to  Joy  he  was  a 
stranger.  He  was  about  to  put  the 
book  down  when  lines  underscored 
jumped  at  him  : 

"When  I  was  young  I  said  to  Sorrow, 
'  Come  and  I  will  play  with  thee. ' 

He  is  near  me  now  all  day. 
And  at  night  returns  to  say, 

'  I  will  come  again  to-morrow, 
I  will  come  and  stay  with  thee. '  ' 

He  read  them,  read  them  again. 
They  had  their  meaning.  But,  what? 
He  looked  around.  The  walls  did  not 
answer.  The  bed  was  dumb.  The  table, 
the  chairs,  were  silent. 

Then  from  the  room  he  went,  closing 
the  door  closely  as  though  to  shut  there 
something  he  knew  not  what, — something, 
though,  that  must  have  managed  to  es 
cape,  something  that  must  have  got  out 
with  him,  something  that  crept  after  him 
down  the  stair,  dogging  him  steathily  to 

140 


VANITY   SQUARE 

the  dining-room  below,  where,  in  name 
less  horror,  at  his  side  it  crouched,  pluck 
ing  at  his  sleeve,  drawing  him  into 
labyrinthine  darknesses,  holding  to  him 
semblances  of  sudden  light,  torturing  him 
with  their  abrupt  extinction,  impelling 
him  to  find  the  Why,  demanding  that  he 
unearth  the  Sorrow ;  prodding  him  in 
sistently,  in  the  ways  so  lancinant,  that 
the  pain  of  them,  prolonging,  expanded 
into  those  excesses  from  which  insensi 
bility  proceeds. 

Pain  has  her  anaesthetics.  Pain  can 
plunge  the  soul  of  the  agonized  into 
depths  of  torture  where  no  further  hurt 
can  go.  Into  those  depths  the  soul  of 
Uxhill  sank. 

From  them,  reascending,  he  started  on 
another  journey,  one  from  which  men 
have  returned,  but  none  ever  as  they 
went. 

141 


XII. 

TN  dream  everything  is  possible,  or, 
rather,  everything  seems  possible  to 
him  who  dreams.  On  the  uplands  of  that 
wonderful  country  to  which  sleep  conveys 
us,  faces  that  we  never  saw,  forms  we 
shall  never  behold,  delights  we  shall 
never  enjoy,  beckon,  palpitate,  advance 
and  retreat.  Though  they  loiter,  they  do 
not  linger.  Sometimes  in  tumults  of  fare 
wells  they  disappear.  Sometimes,  silently 
as  they  have  come,  they  go.  Sometimes 
you  are  unaware  they  have  appeared 
until  they  are  upon  you,  then  as  nebu 
lously  they  are  gone,  vanishing  through 
gaps  to  their  eyries,  from  which  they  have 
emerged  but  for  a  second,  though  that 
second  seem  to  you  years. 

Yet,  however  they  appear  and   disap- 

142 


VANITY   SQUARE 

pear,  however  inconstant  their  return, 
however  they  disturb  or  delight,  however 
illusory  they  may  be,  perhaps  they  are 
but  a  prefigurement  of  life  which  itself 
is  a  dream  from  which  at  death  we 
awake. 

In  the  insensibility  to  which  the  soul  of 
Uxhill  had  been  sunk,  semi-breves  stirred, 
lightly,  as  leaves  stir  when  birds  pass  ; 
faintly,  in  the  little  whispers  that  woods 
have  at  dawn  ;  floatingly,  in  murmurs  and 
low  trills.  The  soul  of  the  man  was 
seeking  an  issue  from  its  tenement  of 
flesh,  seeking  another  whom  it  could  not 
find. 

The  threading  whispers  augmented, 
the  murmurous  trills  increased,  mount 
ing  gradually,  yet  sheerly,  in  reverbera 
tions  so  sonorous  that  they  melted  into 
luminous  circles  which  radiated,  dis 
tended,  contracted,  revealing  in  their 

transformations     multi-colored     perspec- 
143 


VANITY  SQUARE 

tives  where  a  sphinx,  orange-haired,  vesu- 
vian-eyed,  smiled  and  sank  away. 

The  sounds  decreased,  the  colors  de 
composed.  There  was  but  darkness,  in 
which  the  soul  of  Uxhill  groped  until, 
caught  in  a  current,  it  was  tossed  into 
shadowy  spaces  where  figures,  very  dim, 
serpented  ceaselessly  in  haste  toward  a 
point  far  away  where  a  flame  burned 
spirally,  and  from  which,  like  balls  from  a 
Roman  candle,  face  after  face,  all  of  them 
smiling,  each  of  them  orange-haired, 
vesuvian-eyed,  flew  upward  and  dis 
appeared. 

The  soul  of  Uxhill  sought  to  follow,  but 
forgot  them  in  a  region  shuttled  with 
wide  avenues  of  transversal  streets,  at  the 
corners  of  which  the  furtive  forms  of 
women,  balancing  themselves  undecid 
edly,  hesitantly  appeared  and,  imme 
diately,  like  frightened  swallows,  fluttered 
suddenly  from  sight. 

144 


VANITY  SQUARE 

Remotely  stretched  rows  of  houses, 
their  sculptured  doors  widely  hospi 
table,  their  windows  opening  candidly. 
Within  were  serene  retreats,  chambers 
furnished  with  capricious  care,  the  floor 
ing  parquetted  with  pomegranates,  the 
ceilings  covered  with  cashmeres.  As  the 
faces  had  faded,  as  the  forms  had  flown, 
the  windows  closed,  the  wide  doors  shut, 
silently,  mysteriously,  almost  smilingly. 

Beyond  was  a  plain  strewn  with  flowers 
and  girls,  indistinguishably  fair,  indistin- 
guishably  intermingled,  as  indistinguish 
able,  in  paradise,  girls  and  flowers  are. 
Yet,  over  the  girls  that  were  flowers,  and 
the  flowers  that  were  girls,  a  blankness 
intervening  hid  them,  their  perfumes  and 
smiles. 

But,  at  once,  in  a  garden,  from  behind 
bushes  of  roses,  a  woman  emerged.  As 
she  moved  the  folds  of  her  dress  glistened 
with  changing  hues,  increasing  her  height 

10  145 


VANITY  SQUARE 

demeasurably.  With  her  changing  folds 
the  garden  mounted.  Upward  with  her 
girdle  the  roses  grew.  The  plain  joined 
itself  to  her.  From  behind  the  blankness 
the  flowerful  girls  ascended,  mingling 
their  beauty  with  hers.  The  rows  of 
houses  with  their  candid  windows  lifted 
themselves  in  her  train.  The  wide  ave 
nues  of  transversal  streets,  the  shadowy 
spaces,  the  luminous  circles,  the  remote 
horizons,  the  decomposing  perspectives, 
the  sounds,  the  colors,  the  world  itself, 
rose  with  her,  and,  rising,  soared  further, 
further  yet  into  voids,  into  chaos,  where 
like  a  bubble  it  burst. 

At  that  absence  of  anything,  in  which 
all  things  were  returned  to  the  indetermi 
nate,  dissolved  there  into  primal  fluidity, 
divested  of  substance  and  design,  at  this 
nothingness,  in  which  he  himself  disap 
peared,  Uxhill,  or  the  soul  of  him,  stared. 

And  still  he  stared. 
146 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Long  hours  later,  Patmore,  entering 
the  dining-room,  as  was  his  morning  cus 
tom,  found  Uxhill  there,  a  decanter  be 
fore  him.  The  hour,  the  decanter,  the 
spectacle  of  Uxhill,  an  elbow  on  the 
table,  a  hand  to  his  head,  at  once  suf 
ficed.  Patmore  knew  that  Uxhill  was 
drunk. 

Patmore  did  not  blame  him  for  that. 
Patmore  was  not  censorious,  and  in  omit 
ting  to  be,  reached,  without  suspecting  it 
in  the  least,  the  heights  which  ages  ago 
the  founders  of  philosophy  scaled. 

Patmore,  though  not  censorious,  was 
observant,  which  is  another  and  very  ex 
cellent  attribute  of  the  sage.  In  the 
course  of  his  observations,  Patmore  had 
never  seen  Uxhill  drunk  before.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  was  aware  of  what  had 
occurred.  Though  not  a  drinking  man 
himself,  he  rather  felt  that  in  similar  cir 
cumstances  he,  too,  would  be  drunk.  In 
147 


VANITY   SQUARE 

addition  to  indulgence  and  observation, 
Patmore  had  sympathy  as  well. 

Patmore  was  only  a  butler.  Yet,  he 
possessed  virtues  to  which  a  bishop  might 
bow,  and  to  which,  if  a  bishop  had  bowed, 
Patmore  would  have  felt  exceedingly  un 
comfortable.  To  sympathy,  indulgence, 
observation,  Patmore  added  humility. 
Saint  Francis  would  have  called  him 
brother. 

Now,  duty  prompting,  he  inquired : 
"  Would  you  wish  anything,  sir?" 
Patmore  got  no  reply  whatever. 
"  Coffee,    sir?     Or,  perhaps,  first  your 
bath,  sir?" 

To  these  suggestions  there  was  no 
reply,  either,  silence  merely,  but  a  silence 
that  gave  Patmore  the  creeps.  It  was 
the  highly  uncanny  silence  of  a  man  star 
ing  at  you  with  wide-open  eyes  that 
seemed  in  the  white  of  them  to  pop  from 
his  head. 

148 


VANITY  SQUARE 

Patmore,  though  observant,  had,  on  en 
tering,  not  observed  that.  The  moment 
he  did,  indistinctively,  his  own  eyes  looked 
down  over  his  own  person.  Assured  that 
nothing  was  amiss  with  him,  he  looked 
again  at  Uxhill,  who  still  was  staring,  yet, 
less  at  him  than  through  him,  at  some 
thing  behind,  which  Patmore  could  not 
see,  and  to  which,  when  he  turned,  was 
but  the  tulipwood  sideboard,  the  mirror 
of  which  showed  back  his  own  face. 

A  bit  confused,  Patmore  evolved  an 
other  question. 

4 'You  may  not  be  feeling  very  well,  sir. 
Would  you  wish  me  to  call  the  doctor?" 

To  this  there  was  still  but  that  stare. 
In  it,  however,  Patmore,  now  thoroughly 
frightened,  ventured  to  affect  to  discern 
consent,  and  to  it,  after  a  moment's  self- 
communion,  he  added  : 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  thank  you,  sir.  I  will  do  so 
at  once." 

149 


PART  II 
THE  WOMAN  WHO   PERSISTED 


151 


I. 


ULJOW  is  Mr.  Uxhill  to-night?" 
Sayce  was  inquiring,  as  a  foot 
man  helped  him  from  his  coat. 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  Miss  Sixmith  has 
been  with  him  since  noon.  Mr.  Watson 
is  going  to  him  now." 

"Yes.  You  might  say  to  Miss  Six 
mith,  please,  that,  before  going  up,  I  will 
thank  her  to  give  me  a  moment." 

Sayce  turned  into  the  drawing-room. 
On  getting  there  that  morning  he  had 
found  Uxhill  pretty  much  as  Patmore  had 
discovered  him  ;  but  finding,  too,  cuta 
neous  insensibility,  low  temperature,  de 
fective  respiration,  complicated  presently 
with  incoherence,  he  had  got  him  to  bed, 
at  the  side  of  which  shortly  two  nurses, 

153 


VANITY   SQUARE 

one  a  man,  the  other  a  divinity,  alter 
nated. 

"Well?"  he  began,  when  the  goddess 
appeared.  "  Anything  new?" 

Collared  and  cuffed,  aproned  and 
capped,  her  blue  dress  striped  with 
white,  presenting  generally  a  resem 
blance  to  the  belle  Chocolatiere, — mais 
en  mieux, — demurely,  in  her  clear  con 
tralto,  the  divinity  replied : 

"  No.  The  hypnogogic  hallucinations 
continue." 

"Still  thinks  he  does  not  exist?" 

"And  that  nothing  else  does,  either." 

"  Not  even  you  ?" 

"Me,  least  of  all." 

With  cheerful  unconcern  the  physician 
smiled. 

"To  him  you  do  not  exist,  to  me  you 
only  do.  His  condition  is  merely  un 
usual,  mine  is  unique.  Otherwise  the 
cases  are  not  dissimilar.  He  has  lost 

154 


VANITY   SQUARE 

his  bearings.  Without  you  I  should  lose 
my  own.  But,  while  his  condition  is  tem 
porary,  mine  is  permanent.  There  is 
the  real  difference,  and  a  big  one  it  is." 

He  took  her  hand.  With  entire  sub 
mission  she  let  him  hold  it.  Then  slowly 
it  was  withdrawn. 

"  You  are  so  good." 

The  smile  fell  from  him.  "  Do  you 
know  that  the  day  before  yesterday  was 
the  birthday  of  my  life?" 

"  I  know  that  a  girl  needs  protection." 

"  I  know,  too,  that,  however  and  how 
vainly  I  had  hoped,  it  was  not  until  the 
day  before  yesterday  that  I  believed  you 
would  accept  it  from  me.  The  tragedy 
of  age  is  not  that  a  man  is  old  ;  it  is  that 
he  is  young.  That  tragedy  you  made 
into  a  festival." 

Through  some  miracle  of  love,  Sayce 
had  really  succeeded  in  rejuvenating. 
His  hair  was  white,  but  his  skin,  the 

155 


VANITY   SQUARE 

color  of  brick,  was  unlined,  his  eyes  were 
as  luminous  as  her  own.  Yet,  then, 
happiness  is  a  great  elixir. 

To  Stella  no  elixir  was  necessary.  She 
was  an  elixir  herself,  solidified,  in  cold 
storage.  But,  having,  perhaps,  less  en 
thusiasm  for  the  subject  in  which  he 
revelled,  she  changed  it. 

"  Did  I  understand  from  you  that  Mr. 
Uxhill's  condition  is  temporary  ?" 

The  little  douche  in  the  question  damp 
ened  Sayce,  if  at  all,  but  for  the  instant. 
The  girl's  reserve  was  one  of  the  ele 
ments  of  the  elixir  which  she  exhaled,  and 
not  the  least  heady  element,  either.  It  was 
one,  though,  Sayce  felt,  which  marriage 
would  sublimate.  That  conviction  evap 
orating  the  douche,  he  nodded  serenely. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Through  some  strain,  it  may 
be  through  some  shock,  he  has  lost  his 
memory.  A  counter-emotion  is  indi 
cated." 

156 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Stella  patted  her  apron,  adjusted  a 
cuff. 

"  He  cared  a  great  deal  for  her,  did  he 
not?" 

With  a  gesture  that  was  familiar  to 
him,  Sayce  ran  a  hand  through  his  hair. 

"  Yes,  and  you  see  what  love  will  do. 
Should  anything  separate  us,  my  con 
dition  would  be  quite  the  same,  unless  it 
happened  to  be  worse." 

"  Which  a  counter-emotion  would  dis 
pel,"  the  girl,  with  her  rare  smile,  replied. 
Then,  getting  back  to  her  muttons,  she 
asked,  "  Do  you  know,  at  all,  why  she 
left  him?" 

"  Oh,  well,  to  him,  poor  devil,  I  sug 
gested  spontaneous  somnambulism.  You 
see,  when  we  don't  know,  we  have  to 
pretend  to.  Tell  a  perplexed  patient 
that  you  are  as  perplexed  as  he  is,  at 
once  you  are  a  jackass.  But,  tell  him  he 

has    a     disturbance    of    the     vasomotor 
157 


VANITY   SQUARE 

nerves  of  the  coeliac  viscera,  instantly  he 
is  reassured,  and  you  are  Cagliostro. 
Spontaneous  somnambulism  comforted 
Uxhill.  Had  I  not  suggested  something 
for  his  mind  to  chew  on,  he  would  have 
sworn  at  me,  and  if  I  had  intimated  that 
it  was  another  Besalul  affair,  he  would 
have  knocked  me  down." 

"  And  you  think  it  was  that?"  the  girl, 
from  the  tips  of  her  lips,  distastefully 
inquired. 

"  What  else  is  there  to  think?  It  was 
evident  that  she  had  something  on  her 
mind,  and  in  this  neighborhood  what  do 
women  ever  have  on  their  mind  except 
men — and  money?" 

"  But,  before  I  came  here,  did  you  not 
say  that  he  was  very  wealthy  ?" 

"  Precisely.  Her  going,  therefore,  is 
explicable  only  on  the  man-theory.  In 
Boston,  Uxhill  probably  realized  that. 
A  reflex  movement  in  the  cerebral  circu- 

158 


VANITY   SQUARE 

lation  ensued,  from  which  a  form  of 
psychic  paralysis  has  resulted.  In  the 
abeyance  of  consciousness  the  sense  of 
his  identity  is  dispersed.  He  seems  to 
himself  as  having  been,  yet  as  no  longer 
being,  and  exterior  objects  seem  as  though 
they  no  longer  were.  Physical  individu 
ality  is  but  the  aggregate  of  sensations 
emanating  from  the  different  organs,  tis 
sues,  and  movements  of  the  body,  and  re- 
percuted  thence  to  the  sensorium.  As 
these  are  affected  so  is  the  individual. 
A  change  in  them  may  produce  anything, 
from  a  simple  indisposition  to  a  complete 
displacement  of  the  centre  of  gravity.  In 
such  displacement  the  patient  may  believe 
anything  imaginable  and  unimaginable, 
but  whatever  he  believes  is  perfectly  true, 
at  least  to  him.  It  cannot  help  being 
true,  for  his  consciousness  is  but  the  ex 
pression  of  his  condition.  In  the  present 
case  the  indentity  is  dispersed.  But,  it 

159 


VANITY   SQUARE 

can  be  got  together  again.  The  frag 
ments  are  strewn  about  in  the  sub-cellars 
of  the  sensorium.  In  a  shock  they  have 
sundered,  in  a  counter-emotion  they  will 
coalesce." 

"It  is  very  curious." 

"  And  even  humorous.  Uxhill  thinks 
he  does  not  exist.  How  modest  that  is  ! 
The  world  is  full  of  people  who  properly 
have  no  existence  whatever,  whose  im 
portance  is  that  of  gnats  in  the  sun,  and 
yet,  who,  through  prodigies  of  imagination 
which  psychology  is  incompetent  to  ex 
plain,  fancy  themselves  great  guns  and 
great  shakes.  It  would  take  more  than 
an  emotion,  it  would  take  shrapnel,  to 
undeceive  them.  By  the  way,  how  does 
Watson  do  ?" 

"  Very  well  ;  he  is  with  him  now.  As 
I  was  coming  down  here  I  heard  Mr. 
Uxhill  saying,  '  Who  am  I  ? '  and 
'Why?'  And  I  heard  Watson  telling 

160 


VANITY   SQUARE 

him  who  he  is,  and  that  he  would  soon 
be  right." 

"Yes,  that  is  indicated,  but  it  is  not 
enough.  He  has  never  seen  Watson, 
while  he  knows  you.  If  he  could  real 
ize  your  presence  he  would  begin  to  get 
his  bearings.  Shall  we  go  up  ?" 


ii  161 


II. 

'  I  VHE  next  morning,  Stella,  relieving 
Watson,  took  her  place  in  the  room 
in  which  Uxhill  lay.  Under  the  influence 
of  an  opiate  all  night  he  had  slept.  He 
was  still  sleeping.  Stella  looked  at  him. 
He  was  good  to  look  at.  In  looking  she 
saw  that  the  effects  of  the  opiate  were 
diminishing.  Uxhill's  eyes  were  closed. 
But  occasionally  he  moved. 

Stella  had  with  her  a  book.  She  be 
gan  to  read  it.  It  was  a  treatise  in 
French  on  obscure  derangements  of  the 
brain.  The  derangements  were  new  to 
her.  Being  new,  they  interested.  As 
pages  turned  they  confronted  her  with 
men  who  thought  themselves  women, 
with  women  who  thought  themselves 
men,  with  others  who  thought  themselves 

162 


VANITY   SQUARE 

both.  But  these  were  not  what  she 
wanted.  It  was  a  case  similar  to  Uxhill's 
that  she  sought.  The  index  aiding,  she 
found  one. 

It  was  the  account  of  a  young  girl  who 
thought  herself  isolated  and  transported 
far,  very  far,  in  a  sphere  in  which  there 
was  but  the  darkness  of  thick  clouds  and 
shapes  of  strange  sin,  shapes  which  she 
did  not  know  could  be,  and  concerning 
which  she  brooded  interminably,  until 
one  who  loved  her,  breathing  his  name 
into  her  ear,  dissipated  the  thick  clouds, 
revealed  her  to  herself  and  to  the  fact 
that  she  was  not  so  far  away, — at  home 
merely  and  in  bed. 

The  descent  from  the  infernal  to  the 
commonplace  amused  Stella.  She  smiled, 
not  frostily  as  she  usually  did,  but  with 
the  rare  seduction  which,  when  she 
wished,  she  could  display.  As  she  smiled 
the  white  of  her  delicate  skin  suffused. 

163 


VANITY   SQUARE 

It  was  as  though  there  were  claret 
in  it. 

She  stood  up,  moved  noiselessly  to  the 
bed,  and,  bending  down,  looked  in  Uxhill's 
face.  He  still  was  sleeping.  She  moved 
closer,  bent  nearer,  and,  pressing  her  lips 
to  his  ear,  whispered  to  him. 

He  had  been  lying,  his  face  to  the  wall, 
but  now  within  him  something  stirred. 
He  turned  heavily.  Without  haste  Stella 
retreated.  He  was  muttering.  Yet  what, 
she  could  not  tell.  Presently  he  was  si 
lent.  Stella  waited.  But,  obviously,  he 
had  lapsed  back.  Then  closer  she  moved, 
bent  nearer,  so  near  that  his  breath  was 
in  her  hair,  and,  pressing  her  lips  to  the 
other  ear,  whispered  again,  but  longly 
and  so  intensely  that  within  him  again 
something  stirred,  but  more  deeply. 

He  turned,  this  time  on  his  back.  His 
eyes  opened.  He  rubbed  them  and 
looked  after  her,  for  she  had  retreated 

164 


VANITY   SQUARE 

again,  further  than  before,  to  the  chair 
where  she  had  sat. 

Laboriously  Uxhill  raised  himself  on  an 
elbow,  passed  a  hand  across  his  head, 
pulled  at  his  moustache,  his  eyes  still  on 
Stella,  not  vacantly,  but  wonderingly,  as 
though  he  could  not  make  things  out. 
But  some  of  them,  soon,  he  must  have 
been  able  to.  For  in  a  moment  he 
laughed  queerly,  and  said,  and  quite  confi 
dently,  too  : 

"  You  have  not  changed  much." 

"No,"  Stella  repeated,  providing  him 
as  she  spoke  with  glimpses  of  her  beauti 
ful  teeth.  "Nor  you." 

"Ah!"  he  answered  absently,  and 
seemed  to  meditate.  "  But  it  has  been 
very  long." 

"  What  has  been  long  ?" 

"  Since, — since  I  got  here." 

"Not  so  very  long,  only  a  day  and  a 
night." 

165 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  A  day  and  a  night !"  Uxhill  repeated. 
"  No.  You  are  jesting." 

"  Indeed,  lam  not." 

"  It  seems  to  me  impossible.  And  you 
say  a  day  and  a  night?" 

"  A  day  and  a  night,  Mr.  Uxhill.  Shall 
I  show  you  the  calendar?" 

Uxhill  nodded,  unconvinced.  "I  have 
been  to  odd  places.  I  have  seen  odd 
things.  Among  them  I  lost  something. 
What  was  it  ?"  he  interrupted  himself 
to  ask.  "  Something  very  important. 
Something  vital.  What  could  it  have 
been  ?  Ah  !  I  remember." 

4 'Yes?"  said  Stella,  encouragingly. 

"  Yes,  I  remember;  it  was  Maud." 

Stella  looked  down  at  her  book. 

"Yes,"  Uxhill  resumed.  "I  looked 
for  her  in  strange  places,  among  strange 
things.  She  disappeared  in  them.  Miss 
Sixmith?" 

-Yes,  Mr.  Uxhill." 

166 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"You  and  I  will  never  see  her 
again." 

To  this  the  girl  could  have  found  no 
suitable  reply.  Her  eyes  were  still  on 
the  book.  She  said  nothing. 

"No,"  Uxhill  continued.  "She  has 
gone.  I  wish  her  well.  But  I  shall  not 
look  for  her  any  more.  Between  us  eter 
nity  has  begun." 

He  paused.     "  Miss  Sixmith  !" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Uxhill." 

"  Has  it  really  been  but  a  day  and  a 

night?" 

"  A  day  and  night  since  you  have  been 
in  this  room.  A  day  and  two  nights 
since  you  returned  from  Boston." 

"It  is  inconceivable." 

Uxhill  sank  back.  His  eyes  reclosed. 
For  a  while  he  was  motionless. 

Stella  stood  up  again,  moved  forward 
and  looked.  He  seemed  to  be  sleeping, 
but  she  was  not  sure.  She  waited  a  mo- 

167 


VANITY   SQUARE 

ment.  In  the  corners  of  her  perfect 
mouth  another  smile  had  bubbled.  To 
her  face  the  flush  had  returned.  She 
moved  closer,  bent  nearer.  But  some 
thing  made  her  turn.  Then  the  smile 
vanished,  but  the  flush  increased. 

In  the  doorway  stood  Sayce. 

Stella  straightened  like  a  reed.  Where 
the  smile  had  been  two  fingers  went. 
Noiselessly,  as  she  had  gone  to  Uxhill, 
she  moved  toward  Sayce,  the  fingers  still 
on  her  lips,  motioning  him  with  the  other 
hand  back  to  the  hall,  where  she  followed, 
closing  the  door  behind  her. 

Sayce,  mystified  by  the  graceful  pan 
tomime,  stared. 

"  He  is  out  of  it,"  she  announced.  "  I 
am  so  glad." 

"  H'm,"  mused  Sayce.  Then  he  added, 
"  You  look  it.  If  I  did  not  know  you  as 
I  do,  I  could  have  sworn  you  were  about 

to  kiss  him." 

168 


VANITY   SQUARE 

But,  if  Stella  heard  the  comment,  she 
did  not  appear  to  have  done  so.  Besides, 
explanations  were  not  in  her  line. 

"Yes,"  she  continued.  "I  was  read 
ing.  It  was  only  five  minutes  ago.  He 
spoke  to  me,  called  me  by  name.  He 
was  entirely  rational.  Just  now  he  went 
to  sleep  again.  He  would  hardly  believe, 
though,  that  it  has  been  a  day  and  a 
night — " 

"Thought  it  longer,  did  he?"  Sayce 
interrupted.  "That  is  usual.  But,  it  has 
all  turned  out  very  well.  He  has  had  a 
normal  return  from  the  abnormal.  If  he 
is  rational  when  he  awakes,  he  will  stay 
so.  In  which  event  there  is  no  necessity 
for  you  to  remain.  There  is  no  necessity, 
either,  for  him  to  know  that  you  are  so 
prodigiously  glad.  It  might  excite  him, 
don't  you  see  ?  But,  when  he  awakes,  let 
him  have  anything  he  wants.  Humor 
him  in  everything.  That  is  to  say,  you 

169 


VANITY   SQUARE 

know,  in  everything  reasonable.  Where 
is  Watson  ?  Turned  in  ?" 

"Yes.  He  was  here  until  I  relieved 
him  an  hour  since." 

Sayce  nodded.  "If,  when  he  is  up 
again,  Uxhill  is  then  right,  you  had  best 
go  Now  I  must  go.  Meanwhile,  re 
member,  no  excitement ;  and,  to  avoid 
it,  don't  let  him  suspect  that  you  are  so 
pleased." 

Sayce  laughed  and  passed  on.  He 
was  quite  sure  of  the  girl.  Any  excite 
ment  that  Uxhill  could  derive  from  her 
would,  he  was  aware,  be  meagre.  How 
ever  heady  her  appearance  might  be,  her 
demeanor  was  very  sobering.  Entranc 
ing  as  song,  she  was  passionless  as  alge 
bra,  the  true  type  of  femme  forte,  the 
ideal  companion, — when  companionable 
she  would  consent  to  be. 

That  consent,  long  besought,  only  re 
cently  he  had  believed  might  be  obtained. 

170 


VANITY   SQUARE 

The  belief  had  put  a  bird  in  his  heart. 
It  was  singing  there.  But,  until  latterly, 
it  had  all  been  very  uphill.  From  the 
first  he  had  cared  as  only  a  man  can  care 
who  has  never  cared  before,  at  once  prodi 
gally  and  concentratedly,  with  that  con 
centration  which  reduces  the  census  to  a 
single  being. 

She  was  that  being.  His  whole  life  he 
felt  he  had  been  waiting  for  her,  and  then, 
when,  suddenly,  a  delight  and  a  desire, 
she  did  appear,  it  was  with  the  attitude 
of  a  Madonna,  with  the  air  of  a  divinity 
offended  at  being  looked  at. 

Sayce  knew  that  he  was  less  than  she. 
But  he  knew,  too,  that  it  is  from  such 
knowledge  that  failure  comes.  He  was 
careful  to  conceal  it.  It  was  his  admira 
tion  that  he  disclosed,  and  which,  at  first, 
she  put  from  her,  but  which,  in  the  daily 
intercourse  of  ward-  and  sick-room  that 
ensued,  she  ended  by  accepting,  yet  al- 

171 


VANITY   SQUARE 

ways  with  reserve,  with  the  effacement  of 
a  pupil  praised  by  a  teacher.  Later, 
when  the  admiration  became  more  per 
sonal,  she  listened  as  one  does  who  is  un 
willing  to  be  brusque  and  yet  whom  a 
topic  wearies.  When  he  persisted,  as  he 
did  persist,  she  told  him,  as  she  had  told 
Maud,  that  she  did  not  intend  to  marry. 

It  was  all  quite  hopeless,  and  so  con 
tinued  until  that  afternoon,  a  few  days  be 
fore,  when,  unstrung  by  Maud's  unac 
countable  disappearance,  she  had  gone 
to  him  for  counsel.  The  counsel  which 
she  very  naturally  received  was  that  she 
should  take  him.  Then,  for  the  first  time, 
she  consented  to  listen.  But,  then,  it  was 
the  first  time,  too,  that  her  pulse  had  not 
registered  normal. 

Not  his,  though.  Nor  had  it  registered 
normal  since.  That  afternoon  he  ac 
counted  the  birthday  of  his  life.  Since 
then  in  his  heart  a  bird  had  been  singing. 

172 


VANITY   SQUARE 

It  is  true,  she  had  not  wholly  consented. 
But  capitulation  is  only  a  question  of 
time  with  a  castle  that  talks.  The  be 
leaguer  had  stormed  it,  and  now,  as  he 
passed  on,  he  told  himself  that  soon  its 
allurements  would  be  his. 

These  allurements  had  their  effect  on 
Uxhill.  Before  Maud  had  gone  he  had 
been  so  fully  aware  of  them  that,  con 
science-pricked,  he  had  for  a  moment  at 
tributed  the  going  to  some  clairvoyant 
intuition  of  the  emotions  which  they  pro 
duced.  A  moment  only,  for  at  once  he 
had  seen  that  the  cause  was  not  that.  In 
an  effort  to  get  at  that  cause,  to  rout  out 
the  why,  he,  too,  had  departed  on  a  jour 
ney  more  mysterious  than  hers.  Yet, 
wherever  Maud  may  have  gone,  and  what 
ever  the  cause  of  her  going,  his  journey 
had,  in  a  measure,  resembled  her  own.  In 
going  she  had  left  him.  In  returning  he 
had  left  her.  On  the  road  to  nowhere 

173 


VANITY   SQUARE 

and  back,  somewhere  he  had  strewn  her. 
In  leaving  his  home  she  had  filled  his 
heart.  On  his  return  that,  too,  was 
empty. 

Absence  may  make  the  heart  grow 
fonder,  but,  to  do  that,  then  between  the 
absentee  and  the  heart  there  must  be 
reciprocity.  Eliminate  reciprocity  and 
sooner  or  later,  and  generally  sooner 
than  later,  the  result  is  reducible  to  an 
Old  World  axiom,  "Who  goes  to  the 
chase,  loses  his  place."  Or  hers,  as  the 
case  may  be.  The  axiom  is  not  merely 
Old  World,  it  is  archaic.  It  is  something 
higher.  It  is  a  law  of  Nature,  who  has 
many  laws,  no  compunctions,  and  a  few 
dislikes. 

Chief  among  the  latter  is  a  vacuum. 
A  vacuum  is  the  residue  of  what  remains 
of  those  whom  the  chase  entices.  A  vac 
uum  is  Nature's  pet  detestation.  Let  the 

hunter  omit  to  return  and  refill  it,  Nature 
174 


VANITY   SQUARE 

promptly  stuffs  in  the  first  thing  that  she 
finds. 

The  censorious  allege  that  this  is  not 
right  and  may  continue  to,  for  all  that 
Nature  cares.  Nature  has  no  heed  of  the 
censorious  or  of  anybody,  or  of  anything, 
save  her  will  and  her  way.  A  saint  may 
defy  her.  Uxhill  was  not  that  by  a  long 
shot.  He  was  a  human  being  who  had 
been  made  to  suffer  poignantly,  who  had 
been  deserted  and  insulted  for  no  reason 
at  all,  and  who,  as  a  result,  had  been 
forced  on  a  journey  from  which  some 
men  return,  but  none  ever  as  they  went. 

Of  this  Uxhill  had  found  himself  at 
once  aware.  In  the  halts  of  the  journey 
it  had  been  manifesting  within  him.  To 
those  that  stood  about,  the  journey,  rela 
tively,  had  been  brief.  Though  to  him  it 
had  been  inordinate,  its  actual  brevity 
could  not  minimize  the  result.  Every 
thing  human  is  bound  to  pass  away. 
175 


VANITY   SQUARE 

The  process  of  passing  may  be  long  or 
short.  In  either  event  the  result  is  the 
same.  In  the  case  of  Uxhill  pathological 
conditions  had  so  favored  that,  what  ordi 
narily  might  have  taken  a  lifetime,  had 
been  effected  in  one  of  those  crises  in 
which  time  is  wiped  out. 

The  only  things  that  really  are,  are 
those  which  we  believe  to  be.  To  Uxhill 
the  duration  of  the  journey  had  been  in 
ordinate.  He  accepted,  though,  the  brev 
ity  of  it.  But  that  did  not  alter  its  effect. 
It  was  to  him  as  though  the  episodes  di 
rectly  preceding  it  had  occurred  years 
since,  years  that  in  their  progress  had  put 
mouldering  hands  on  what  had  been  and 
planted  ivy  where  once  grew  the  rose. 

Maud,  like  a  rose,  had  gone.  Concern 
ing  the  going  Uxhill  had  now  no  ill  feel 
ing.  He  had  no  feeling  at  all.  Even  the 
wherefore  of  it  had  ceased  to  preoccupy 
him.  That  she  had  loved  him  he  knew. 

176 


VANITY   SQUARE 

But,  he  knew,  too,  that  there  are  women 
who  can  both  love  and  betray.  On  that 
score,  too,  he  had  no  feeling. 

What  he  chiefly  felt  was  this  :  There 
are  those  who  in  departing  leave  behind 
them  memories  so  toxic  that  they  poison 
the  lives  of  those  whom  they  desert, 
memories  so  atrocious  that  they  survive 
the  forgetfulness  of  all  things  else. 
Maud,  like  the  rose,  had  left  but  perfume. 
Yet  that,  too,  had  gone.  Everything  had. 
Between  what  had  been  and  what  was, 
already,  as  he  had  said  and  in  saying 
believed,  eternity  had  begun. 


12  177 


III. 


FN  the  existence  of  every  one  there  are 
little  oases  in  which  life  suffices  unto 
itself.  In  one  of  them,  Uxhill  was  resting. 
The  resting  consisted  in  looking  at  Stella. 
With  her  subtle  ways  and  marmorean 
face,  she  was  extremely  reposeful,  less  so, 
perhaps,  than  the  opiate  he  had  had,  but, 
certainly,  more  consoling. 

Poppies  and  mandragora  make  you 
dull.  An  angel  in  the  house  will  make 
you  dream.  Uxhill,  latterly,  had  dreamed 
a  great  deal.  He  had  dreamed  of  strange 
places  in  which  something  had  disap 
peared  ;  something  in  search  of  which  he, 
too,  had  vanished.  The  memory  of  it 
was  going.  In  its  place  another  dream 
had  come,  one  which  it  pleasured  him 

infinitely  to  look  at.     The  balm  of  it  con- 
178 


VANITY   SQUARE 

trasted  medicinally  with  the  gaps  and 
voids  of  the  other. 

In  considering  this  dream,  an  hour 
passed.  Poppies  leave  you  without  ap 
petite,  but  beauty  has  many  stimulants. 
It  can  excite  the  appetite  also.  Not  raven 
ously,  but  appreciably,  Uxhill's  appetite 
was  presently  aroused. 

He  asked  the  time.  It  was  high  noon. 
Declaring  that  he  would  get  up,  he  asked 
for  Patmore. 

Sayce  had  said  nothing  about  that. 
He  had,  though,  said  that  Uxhill  was  to 
be  humored.  Stella  reflected  on  the  pos 
sible  injudiciousness  of  opposition.  In 
reflecting,  she  withdrew.  To  replace  her 
Patmore  came.  Then  to  luncheon  pres 
ently  Uxhill  descended,  perfectly  clothed 
and  otherwise  in  his  right  mind. 

On  descending  the  stair  he  had  seen 
letters,  piles  of  them,  in  heaps.  Letters 
had  always  seemed  to  him  very  tedious. 

179 


VANITY   SQUARE 

They  bored  him,  less  because  of  what 
they  contained  than  because  of  what  they 
never  did  contain.  But  he  objected  to 
them  chiefly  because  those  who  write 
them  regard  you  as  rude  if  you  omit  to 
reply.  People  are  so  sensitive.  The 
letters  he  passed,  passed  on  to  the 
drawing-room  where  the  dream  stood,  a 
dream  that  had  a  hat,  white  gloves,  and  a 
coat  of  black  fur. 

He  remonstrated  at  once  : 

"But  you  are  not  going?" 

"But  I  must." 

"At  least  not  before  luncheon." 

The  dream  hesitated.  Hesitancy  was 
rare  with  her.  Always  she  knew  what 
there  was  to  do  and  did  it.  But,  on  this 
occasion,  she  let  herself  be  persuaded. 
The  gloves  came  off,  the  coat,  too,  though 
not  until  she  had  stipulated  that,  luncheon 
over,  she  should  go  at  once. 

To    all    of  which  Uxhill   assented.     It 

180  . 


VANITY   SQUARE 

had  been  part  of  his  buccaneer  training 
always  to  say  "  Yes"  to  women.  He  found 
that,  besides  pleasing,  it  gave  them  a 
chance  to  change  their  mind.  Then,  too, 
it  is  so  ill-bred  to  insist.  Partly,  therefore, 
from  habit,  partly,  too,  because  he  saw  no 
reason  why  the  luncheon  should  not  in 
definitely  prolong,  he  yielded  with  entire 
grace,  and  at  table,  with  a  view,  perhaps, 
to  showing  that  he  was  himself  again, 
talked  first  about  insects,  then  about 
stars,  the  infinitely  great,  the  infinitely 
little,  the  only  subjects  worth  discussing 
by  those  who  have  nothing  else  to  discuss. 
But,  presently,  talk  drifted  into  channels 
more  personal.  As  was  customary  at 
luncheon  in  this  house,  there  were  no 
servants  about,  and  Uxhill,  after  having 
eaten  quite  enough  to  have  satisfied  a 
bird, — a  bit  of  bread  and  a  few  berries, 
asked  the  dream  where,  on  leaving,  she 
proposed  to  go. 

181 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"To  my  lodgings,"  the  dream  replied. 

"You  would  not,  I  suppose,  consent 
to  stay  here  even  if  I  went  elsewhere." 

"  Of  course  not." 

"I  appreciate  that.  You  regard  me  as 
a  married  man." 

To  this  the  dream  made  no  answer. 
It  did  not  deserve  one. 

"Whereas,"  Uxhill  continued,  "I  am  a 
widower." 

On  the  dream's  fork  was  a  bit  of 
orange  that  had  bathed  with  other  fruit 
in  Maraschino.  She  put  the  fork  down 
and  looked  at  him  reproachfully.  A 
subject  so  intimate,  personal,  and  deli 
cate,  it  was  hardly  fair  of  him  to  pro 
duce. 

But,  the  look  he  misinterpreted.  The 
reproach  he  took  for  surprise. 

"Indeed,  I  am,"  he  retorted.  "It  is 
true,  I  have  no  tombstone  to  show,  but  I 
propose  to  get  one." 

182 


VANITY   SQUARE 

In  the   grewsomeness   of  the  project, 
Stella  looked  away. 

Uxhill,  however,  was  not  to  be  rebuffed. 

"  I  propose  to  get  a  divorce." 

Stella  went  back  to  her  orange.  But 
from  the  fork  it  had  slipped.  She  tried 
to  fish  it  up,  and  failing,  looked  at  it  as 
though  it  were  some  curious  thing.  It 
must  have  been  curious,  some  highly 
charged  slice,  perhaps.  The  fork  with 
which  she  was  spearing  at  it  gave  little 
taps,  not  on  it,  but  against  the  plate. 
Had  you  not  known  better,  you  would 
have  said  that  the  phenomenon  was  due, 
not  to  the  orange,  but  to  her ;  to  some 
tremor,  perhaps. 

"  I  do  not  yet  know,"  Uxhill  was  saying, 
"just  how  I  shall  proceed.  But,  probably, 
in  Rhode  Island,  where  I  was  born,  and 
where,  technically  I  may,  I  think,  still 
claim  residence.  In  that  event  it  won't 
take  long,  and  when  I  have  it — " 

183 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Stella  was  rising.    Uxhill,  too,  stood  up. 

"  When  I  have  it— " 

But,  Stella  now  was  passing  into  the 
adjoining  room. 

"When  I  have  it,"  he  repeated,  fol 
lowing  and  overtaking  her  there.  "  When 
I  do—" 

Turning  suddenly,  she  confronted  him. 

"  Don't  say  it,"  she  cried.  A  hand,  half 
raised,  she  held  up  in  protection. 

That  hand  he  caught,  and  peering  into 
her  face,  asked : 

"Will  you  marry  me  when  I  have?" 

The  girl  wrenched  herself  free.  From 
her  eyes  flashed  indignation,  or  was  it 
disdain  ? 

"In  this  very  room,  once  and  for  all, 
did  I  forbid  you  to  speak  to  me  as  you 
have." 

"I  was  married  then." 

"You  are  still." 

4 'For  a  brief  while  only." 

184 


VANITY  SQUARE 

"You  have  no  right  to  even  mention 
the  subject  to  me." 

"I  have  the  right  that  love  gives." 
"I  deny  it.  I  will  not  listen." 
"  But  you  must.  And  you  shall.  The 
first  time  I  saw  you,  the  mere  movement 
of  your  head  went  to  mine.  Later,  I  saw 
you  raise  your  arms.  From  them  I  could 
swear  fell  the  reason  of  love.  Later  still, 
at  this  very  spot,  I  told  you  of  it.  That, 
indeed,  I  lacked  the  right  to  do, — or  so  I 
thought,  and  determined  never  to  repeat 
it.  But  fate  had  me  in  its  charge.  At 
that  very  moment  it  was  preparing  to 
empty  this  house.  What  brought  you 
here  but  fate,  and  what  but  fate  has 
brought  you  here  again  ?  You  may  deny 
what  you  like,  you  cannot  deny  the  inev 
itable  that  has  destined  us  for  each 
other." 

The    speech,  if  tolerably  rambling  as 
such  speeches  are  apt  to  be,  had,  how- 

185 


VANITY  SQUARE 

ever,  a  moral  to  it,  to  emphasize  which 
he  caught  again  at  her  hand. 

"Let  me  be." 

Her  head  bent,  her  eyes  avoiding  his, 
she  tried  to  free  herself.  But,  the  effort 
was  less  violent  than  before,  and  because 
her  face  was  turned  from  him,  the  anger, 
the  defiance,  too,  which  previously  she 
had  displayed  was  less  visible.  No 
longer  was  she  confronting  him  as  she 
had  with  her  air  of  divinity  offended. 
Her  ineffective  struggle  more  clearly 
suggested  girlhood,  helpless  and  hurt. 

"Look  at  me,"  he  continued,  his  hand 
still  fast  on  hers.  "Tell  me  that  when 
this  is  over  I  may  come  to  you  and  ask 
you  again." 

"Let  me  go." 

Struggling  still,  she  was  still  trying 
to  get  her  hand  away. 

"Yes,  surely,"  he  answered,  "though 
if  you  would  let  me,  I  would  leave  you 

186 


VANITY   SQUARE 

and  go  myself,  until  I  could  come  and 
claim  you.  For  claim  you  I  shall.  Only 
tell  me  that  you  will  be  waiting  and 
willing.  Tell  me  that.  Tell  me,"  he  per 
sisted.  "Say  it." 

She  had  ceased  to  struggle.  Her  head 
now  was  not  bent.  She  had  raised  it. 
She  was  looking  at  him.  From  her  face 
the  high  disdain  had  gone.  There  was 
something  else  there.  Something  which 
must  have  eliminated  the  necessity  for 
further  speech, — something  that  did  away 
with  the  need  of  questions,  with  the  need, 
too,  of  other  reply.  At  sight  of  it  his 
arms  went  about  her,  and  in  them,  her 
eyes  in  his,  his  lips  on  hers,  unresistingly 
she  lay. 

A  moment  only.  Undulently  she  freed 
herself,  crossed  the  room,  stopped  at  a 
mirror,  adjusted  her  hat,  got  her  coat, 
drew  on  her  gloves. 

"I  shall  see  you?"  Uxhill  asked. 

187 


VANITY    SQUARE 

Stella,  occupied  with  a  button,  shook 
her  head.  Her  face  was  hotly  flushed, 
her  fingers  were  unassured.  To  a  girl 
who  has  not  been  kissed  before,  the 
process  is  emotional,  though  her  mouth 
does  not  lose  its  freshness  for  that. 

"You  will  write  to  me?" 

Occupied  still  with  a  button,  again  she 
shook  her  head. 

"But  when  it  is  over?" 

She  had  finished  now  with  her  gloves. 
Silently  but  suddenly,  with  an  abandon 
ment  for  which  even  the  kiss  had  not 
prepared  him,  her  face  still  hotly  flushed, 
the  edges  of  her  teeth  just  visible  on  her 
under  lip,  her  eyelids  quivering,  emotion 
alized  still,  the  hands  that  were  in  those 
gloves  frankly  she  put  in  his. 

It  was  her  answer. 

Over  her  hands  he  bent.  She  took 
them  from  him,  moved  to  the  hall  beyond, 
and  silently  still,  through  doors  that 

188 


VANITY   SQUARE 

footmen  held  open,  like  a  divinity  disap 
pearing  in  incense  and  prayers,  out  and 
away  she  passed. 


189 


IV. 


nr^HE  poets  are  right.  Life  is  packed 
with  delights, — which  the  majority  of 
us  never  enjoy.  The  world  is  filled  with 
delightful  people, — whom  few  of  us  ever 
meet.  There  is  food  for  every  hunger, 
drink  for  every  thirst.  There  are  amuse 
ments  for  the  simple,  austerities  for  the 
sage.  But,  of  all  things  that  the  gods 
can  bring, — and  take, — love  is  best.  In 
its  ambrosia  is  a  sense  of  Olympus. 

Uxhill,  the  savor  of  it  on  his  mous 
tache,  stalked  up  and  down.  He  had  not, 
in  earlier  days,  written  a  sequence  of  son 
nets  for  nothing,  and  now,  in  further 
sequences,  he  saw  himself  strolling  with 
the  lovely  girl  through  lovely  lands,  be 
neath  a  sky  of  cinnabar,  beside  a  sea  of 
blue.  And  there,  in  gardens  glowing  in 

190 


VANITY   SQUARE 

perpetual  summer,  in  fevers  of  perpetual 
caresses,  he  could  see  her,  her  arms  out 
stretched,  fairer  than  dream  could  be. 

The  vision  was  so  vivid  that,  naturally, 
it  evoked  others, — the  perspectives  he  had 
intercepted  with  the  ambrosia  that  had 
come  to  him  from  Maud.  But,  the  par 
allel  was  disagreeable.  In  stalking  up 
and  down,  he  tried  to  leave  it  behind. 
But,  it  refused  to  be  left.  It  ran  after 
him.  He  could  not  get  away  from  it. 
Then  presently  the  Why,  which  he  had 
thought  safely  ablated,  eruptively  re 
turned. 

Why  had  she  gone  ?  The  reason 
might  be  a  matter  of  indifference  ;  none 
theless,  it  would  be  satisfactory  to  know. 
In  the  proceedings  which  he  proposed 
to  institute  the  rhyme  of  it  would  aid  him 
in  determining  his  terms.  If,  like  Mrs. 
Besalul,  she  had  gone  with  some  man, 
then  he  would  exact  the  custody  of  his 

191 


VANITY  SQUARE 

child.  He  did  not  see  with  what  man 
she  could  have  gone,  but  episodes  of  his 
buccaneer  days  had  taught  him  that 
when  a  woman's  heart  is  interested,  that 
heart  may  become  a  treasure-house  of 
mystery  and  ruse. 

At  the  same  time  he  found  himself 
forced  to  admit  that  in  all  the  years  of 
his  life  with  Maud,  not  once,  not  for  a 
second,  had  he  known  her  other  than 
straight  as  a  string.  No  one  becomes 
suddenly  bad,  he  decided,  precisely  as  he 
had  already  decided  that  no  one  becomes 
suddenly  insane.  Like  madness,  badness, 
too,  has  its  degrees,  the  preliminary  steps 
before  the  jumping-off  place  is  reached. 
You  must  be  mad  in  thought  and  bad  in 
thought  before  you  can  be  either  in 
action. 

Then,  also,  in  conceit — very  pardonable 
because  perfectly  human — he  was  quite 
unable  to  regard  her  as  an  unfaithful 

192 


VANITY   SQUARE 

wife.  Not  merely  did  it  clash  with  his 
idea  of  her,  but  it  diminished  him  in  his 
own  esteem.  Poets,  buccaneers,  mere 
men,  object  very  much  to  that. 

No  ;  any  such  explanation  of  her  de 
parture  was,  on  the  face  of  it,  absurd. 
Yet,  if  it  were  not  some  other,  it  must  be 
that.  And  what  other  could  it  be? 
Why  should  a  woman  who  had  a  home 
that  was  at  least  to  her  liking,  and  a 
husband  who  was  manifestly  the  same, 
spring  abruptly  from  a  sick-bed  and 
abandon  both,  unless  enthralled  by  some 
man  ? 

Why,  indeed?  And  there  he  was 
back  again  in  the  infernal  circle  of  the 
query,  with  no  other  escape  from  it 
than  the  conviction  that  she  was  not  of 
that  kind.  No  ;  she  was  not, — a  fact,  how 
ever,  which  had  not  prevented  her  from 
leaving  him  precisely  as  though  she  were. 

In  the   circumstances   it   seemed  to   him 
13  193 


VANITY   SQUARE 

unendurable  that  he  was  not  better  in 
formed.  Thereupon,  prompted  by  that 
stupid  theory  of  what's  what,  which  most 
men  of  his  class  have,  he  seriously  as 
sured  himself  that  if,  by  any  inconceiv 
able  chance,  he  had  been  tempted  to  act 
toward  her  as  she  had  acted  to  him,  he 
would  have  told  her  all  about  it  in  ad 
vance.  For  that,  he  reflected,  would  be 
only  the  gentlemanly  thing  to  do,  for 
getting  entirely,  in  so  reflecting,  that  when 
a  man  does  depart  from  a  lady,  he  is 
either  too  exasperated,  or,  what  is  worse, 
too  weary  for  further  speech. 

Yet,  even  had  he  recalled  that  platitudi 
nous  point,  it  would  have  brought  him  no 
nearer  the  mark.  But,  thus  far,  nothing 
had.  From  whatever  angle  he  tried  to 
approach  it,  he  tumbled  straight  into  the 
circle  again,  like  a  fly  that  crawls  up  a 
window-pane  and  then  buzzes  back. 

Then,  as  such  things  occur,  he  thought 

194 


VANITY   SQUARE 

of  the  letters  in  the  hall.  He  had  them 
brought  to  him,  spread  them  out  on 
the  piano,  and  selecting  one,  bothered 
no  further  with  what  the  others  con 
tained. 

The  letter  which  he  selected  was  from 
Tatum.  It  held  two  enclosures,  of  which 
one  was  a  memorandum  of  services 
rendered,  the  other  a  copy  of  a  com 
munication  from  Forster,  the  bishop's  rep 
resentative,  stating  that  Messrs.  Crum- 
ings  &  Kim,  attorneys,  10  Wall  Street, 
New  York,  had  been  authorized  to  accept 
service  in  any  action  instituted  against 
Mrs.  Gerald  Uxhill  by  Gerald  Uxhill, 
esquire. 

That  was  all.  But,  was  it  not  ample  ? 
Was  it  not  insolent,  also  ?  Nothing  more, 
and  nothing  less,  than  that  he  could  go 
ahead  if  he  liked,  and,  failing  that,  to  the 
devil. 

"Yes,"    Uxhill    remarked    to   himself, 
195 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"it  is  the  height  of  sans-gene,  the  comble 
of  indifferent  defiance." 

Yet,  somehow,  behind  it,  Maud  herself, 
the  Maud  whom  he  had  known,  was  ab 
sent.  Then  at  once  there  returned  the 
theory  with  which  Sayce  had  comforted 
him, — the  idea  that  she  had  become 
another  being,  an  idea,  however,  which,  on 
examination,  divested  itself  of  any  com 
fort,  for  the  reason  that,  admitting  its 
validity,  the  confiscation  of  her  to  the 
profit  of  a  secondary  personality  would 
be  as  obvious  to  those  who  were  acting 
for  her  as  his  own  trip  to  nowhere  had 
been  apparent  to  those  that  had  tended 
him. 

And  there  he  was.  But,  the  position, 
unendurable  from  the  start,  .had  now  be 
come  absolutely  untenable.  He  must, 
he  saw,  fight  free  from  it,  and  fight  at 
once. 

Thereupon  he  wrote  a  note  to  Jones, 

196 


VANITY  SQUARE 

asking  him,  if  possible,  to  dine  with  him 
at  eight  that  night. 

The  note  dispatched,  he  discovered 
again  how  appallingly  desolate  was  the 
house. 


197 


V. 


TN  Vanity  Square  everybody  is  late  for 
everything.  At  dinner  only  is  some 
sort  of  decency  observed,  and  then  not 
always.  Uxhill  had  known  himself  to  be 
behindhand  a  whole  hour,  and,  on  one 
occasion — through  an  unholy  mix  and 
confusion  of  dates — a  whole  week,  a 
degree  of  lateness  so  superlative  that 
his  hostess,  instead  of  being  put  out,  had 
regarded  it  as  highly  original. 

Jones,  though  affiliated  with  the  precinct 
and  its  pecularities,  was  never  late.  He 
turned  up  with  the  punctuality  of  a  comet. 
An  eclipse  was  not  more  reliable.  When 
expected  at  eight,  at  eight  to  the  minute 
he  appeared. 

But  there  must  always  be  exceptions. 
This  evening  was  one  of  them.  Eight 

198 


VANITY   SQUARE 

came,  but  not  Jones.  Five  minutes 
passed.  Ten.  The  quarter  after.  Still 
no  Jones.  To  Uxhill  this  was  odd.  In 
the  note  he  had  told  him  that  if  he  could 
come,  not  to  bother  to  reply.  But,  if  he 
could  not,  to  telephone.  There  had  been 
no  reply,  no  message  whatever.  There 
was  but  one  conclusion.  The  note,  sent 
to  his  residence,  had  not  reached  him, 
either  because  he  was  detained  at  his 
office  or  else — 

Here,  mentally,  Uxhill  stumbled  over 
an  alternative  that  suddenly  loomed, — the 
possibility  that  Jones  was  the  man  ! 

For  years  he  had  seen  him  spreading 
before  the  feet  of  Maud  the  mantle  of  his 
admiration,  inoffensively  indeed,  but  quite 
as  a  courtier  may  to  his  queen.  For 
years,  too,  he  had  seen  Maud  tread  on 
that  mantle  as  a  queen  should,  with  royal 
unconcern. 

At  the  possibility  that   it  could  have 

199 


VANITY   SQUARE 

enthralled  her,  Uxhill  pulled  at  his  mous 
tache,  gnawed  at  it.  Here  was  a  se 
quence  of  things  which  he  had  omitted 
to  consider,  and  which  now,  in  consid 
ering,  produced  for  him  the  immediate 
resolution  to  kill  the  damned  scoundrel 
if— 

"  Mr.  Jones,"  a  voice  announced. 

Then  at  once  before  Uxhill  the  scoun 
drel  appeared,  his  bandbox  air  rather 
absent.  He  had  an  overcoat  on,  the 
collar  turned  up,  the  coat  itself  very 
dirty.  In  his  hand  was  his  hat,  singu 
larly  bedrabbled.  He  nodded  at  Uxhill 
and  looked  cautiously  about. 

"Where  the  devil  have  you  been?" 
Uxhill,  perplexed  at  the  mummery,  in 
quired. 

"In  a  fight.     Where  is  your  wife  ?" 

"H'm.  She — er — she  is  not  at  home 
this  evening.  What  the  deuce  do  you 

mean  by  a  fight  ?" 

200 


VANITY   SQUARE 

He  touched  a  bell.  A  footman  ap 
peared. 

"Take  Mr.  Jones'  hat  and  coat." 

Then  the  reason  of  that  coat  became 
apparent.  The  shirt  beneath  was  rum 
pled,  the  collar  torn,  the  white  tie  hanging 
disreputably. 

Nervously,  at  the  spectacle,  Uxhill 
laughed. 

"I  should  say  you  had  been  in  a  fight." 

Jones  laughed,  too.  "I  have  not  had 
such  fun  in  a  week.  On  the  corner  below 
a  hold-up  man  pointed  a  gun  at  me,  and 
though  I  knocked  it  out  of  his  hand,  I 
had  to  knock  him  down  several  times 
before  I  could  convince  him  that  he  had 
mistaken  his  party.  I  was  glad  of  the 
exercise,  but  sorry  to  have  mussed  my 
shirt.  Have  some  of  your  people  take 
me  where  I  can  get  a  bit  ship-shape." 

Uxhill,  mollified  now,  had  Jones,  scoun 
drel  no  longer,  taken  to  his  dressing- 
201 


VANITY   SQUARE 

room,  from  which  presently,  in  a  fresh 
shirt  and  a  reputable  tie,  he  reappeared 
almost  as  bandboxy  as  ever. 

"I  say,  Patmore,"  said  Uxhill,  when, 
shortly,  the  two  men  sat  down  to  dinner, 
"Mr.  Jones  has  been  held  up  at  the 
corner.  Get  me  a  pistol  to-morrow  and 
keep  it  in  my  overcoat  pocket." 

"Yes,  sir  ;  thank  you,  sir.  New  York  is 
getting  very  bad,  sir." 

"Weren't  there  any  police  about?" 
Uxhill  continued,  turning  to  Jones. 

During  dinner  the  episode  defrayed 
the  conversation.  But  when  the  servants 
had  gone,  Jones,  fingering  a  filbert,  asked 
pointedly : 

"What's  wrong  with  you?" 

"I  had  not  meant  to  disturb  your  diges 
tion  and,  possibly  my  own.  by  offering 
you  horrors  for  dessert,"  Uxhill  replied, 
"but—" 

Thereat,  Uxhill  produced  them ;  Maud's 

202 


VANITY   SQUARE 

tortuous  flight,  the  Boston  trip,  the  further 
journey,  the  communication  from  Crum- 
ings,  with,  for  climax,  the  comfortless 
theory  of  Sayce. 

" Gammon!"  said  Jones.  It  was  his 
sole  comment. 

Uxhill  nodded.  "I  never  took  much 
stock  in  that  myself." 

Jones  lighted  a  cigar,  slowly,  carefully, 
meditatively.  Then  he,  too,  nodded. 
"  There  is  something  back  of  this — " 

"Of  course  there  is,"  Uxhill  inter 
rupted. 

"Which  you  have  not  told  me,"  Jones 
resumed.  "Now,  what  is  it?" 

Uxhill  flared.  "I  have  told  you  every 
thing, — everything,  that  is,  which  I  con 
sider  relevant." 

But  Jones,  who  had  come  from  one 
fight,  was  not  to  be  denied  in  another. 
"  Let's  hear,  then,  what  you  don't  consider 
relevant." 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"Well,  for  one  thing,  she  says  I  am 
crazy,  when  it  is  perfectly  patent  that  she 
is  crazy  herself." 

Jones  nodded  again.  He  was  not  yet 
where  he  wanted  to  be,  but  he  was  getting 
there. 

"Better  that  than  to  say  that  you  are 
stupid.  Besides,  a  woman  never  says 
a  man  is  crazy  until  he  is  one  too  many 
for  her.  But,  don't  flatter  yourself. 
That  is  not  your  case.  Your  wife  has 
outwitted  you, — which  is  precisely  the 
reason  why  you  call  her  crazy  yourself. 
You  are  jealous  of  the  way  in  which 
she  has  got  ahead  of  you,  and  jeal 
ous  people  invariably  call  names.  I 
don't  believe  that  she  ever  called  you 
any." 

Still  weak  from  the  fatigues  of  the 
journey  to  nowhere  and  back,  the  snub 
bowled  Uxhill  over.  But  he  was  game 
and  up  at  once. 

204 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"If  she  is  not  crazy,  she  is  worse,  and 
there  is  the  mystery  for — " 

"There  is  no  such  thing  as  mystery," 
Jones,  dodging  and  landing  another, 
broke  in.  "There  is  only  ignorance, 
and  with  that  you  are  abundantly  sup 
plied." 

"It  is  not  my  fault,  then,"  Uxhill, 
rather  staggered,  replied. 

"No  ;  it's  your  wife's  misfortune.  She 
is  not  playing  hide  -  and  -  go  -  seek  for 
the  fun  of  it,  but  in  self-defence,  at 
something  you  have  done.  Now,  what 
is  it?" 

Then  Uxhill  got  back  at  him.  "I  have 
done  nothing.  I  have  not  had  time.  But, 
now  I  am  going  to  do  something.  I  am 
going  to  get  a  divorce.  What  is  more, 
you  are  going  to  get  it  for  me." 

Jones  put  his  hands  down.  "Ah!"  he 
said,  invitingly,  "who  is  the  lady?  One 
of  her  intimate  friends,  I'll  wager.  And 


205 


VANITY   SQUARE 

you  pretend  not  to  know  why  she  has 
gone  ?" 

''Lady!"  Uxhill  fiercely  exclaimed. 
"What  are  you  talking  about ?  I  have 
said  nothing  about  any  lady." 

"Then  what  the  devil  do  you  want  a 
divorce  for  ?  To  be  revenged  ?  That  is 
not  very  gentlemanly.  To  see  your  name 
in  the  papers?  Without  enjoying  it  very 
much,  you  have  seen  it  there  before.  To 
recover  Mowgy?  But  you  would  spoil 
her  with  concessions,  and  ruin  her  with 
chocolates.  Unless  you  propose  to  marry 
somebody  else,  what  good,  then,  will  a 
divorce  do  you  ?  But  that's  it.  Nobody 
ever  wanted  a  divorce  for  any  other 
purpose.  It  was  devised  for  that.  Mar 
riage  is  the  earliest  of  institutions. 
Divorce  was  invented  three  weeks  later. 
It  is  perfectly  clear  to  me,  and,  if  to  me, 
how  much  more  so  must  it  have  been  to 
your  wife?" 

206 


VANITY  SQUARE 

"But,"  Uxhill  expostulated,  "you — " 

With  a  gesture  Jones  hushed  him. 
"And  you  have  called  her  crazy  !  Good 
God  !  It  is  considerate  that  she  is,  and, 
what  is  more,  high-bred.  On  discovering 
your  intentions,  without  a  word,  without 
a  reproach,  she  leaves  you,  and  leaves 
you  to  your  conscience.  That  I  call  very 
fine.  Always  I  have  admired  her,  but 
never  as  now ;  and  as  for  getting  a 
divorce  for  you,  frankly,  Uxhill,  I  will  see 
you  damned  first." 

"But,  confound  it !"  the  routed  wretch, 
in  utter  exasperation,  cried,  "you  have  the 
cart  before  the  horse.  You  jump  at  the 
conclusion  I  am  to  remarry.  Supposing 
I  am.  I  had  no  idea  of  it  before  she  left, 
and,  consequently,  she  could  not  have, 
either." 

"Oho!  It  is  only  since,  then,  that  you 
have  met  Number  Two?  It  seems  to  me 
that  you  have  been  devilish  expeditious." 

207 


VANITY  SQUARE 

"Well, — er,  no.  I  had  met  her  be 
fore." 

-Where?" 

-Here." 

"In  this  house?" 

Uxhill  nodded. 

Jones  nodded  back.  "That  is  just 
what  I  said.  If  Number  Two  is  not  an 
intimate  friend  of  your  wife,  she  at  least 
has  been  her  guest.  What  your  wife 
saw  I  don't  know.  No  one  ever  does 
know  what  women  see.  They  have  eyes 
in  the  back  of  their  head.  But,  without 
giving  you  the  chance  to  suspect  that  she 
saw  anything,  she  washes  her  hands  of 
you  both.  I  call  that  very  fine.  Now,  who 
ever  Number  Two  may  be  is  immaterial. 
But,  I  submit  that  your  wife  is  worth  a 
hundred  of  her.  The  one  decent  course 
for  you  to  pursue  is  to  find  her,  go  on 
your  knees  to  her,  and  promise  to  mend 
your  ways." 

208 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Jones'  cigar  had  gone  out.  He  put  it 
down  and  got  up. 

" Apropos.  How  is  Miss  Sixmith? 
I  suppose  I  may  take  it  for  granted 
that  she  is  contemplating  matrimony 
also?" 

To  the  question,  as  well  as  to  the 
remark,  Uxhill,  instead  of  replying,  got 
behind  them  into  what  had  gone  before. 

"I  have  nothing  to  go  on  my  knees 
for,"  he  said,  and,  as  though  to  emphasize 
the  statement,  he  also  stood  up.  "  Noth 
ing.  Maud  had  no  more  cause  for  leaving 
me  than  I  had  for  leaving  her.  In  spite  of 
which,  and  rather  precisely  on  that  ac 
count,  I  did  try  to  find  her.  I  tried  so 
hard  that  I  lost  myself.  I  shall  not  try 
again." 

"But  you  will  try  for  a  divorce?" 

"I  certainly  shall." 

"Well,  you  took  the  wrong  bull  by  the 
horns  when  you  said  you  expected  me  to 

14  209 


VANITY   SQUARE 

get  it  for  you.     By  the  way,  what  is  your 
opinion  of  horsehair?" 

"Horsehair!"  Uxhill  echoed  blankly. 

"Yes ;  not  long  ago  I  saw  Nora  in  the 
street.  I  stopped  and  asked  her  about 
Mowgy.  She  told  me  she  was  all  right 
again,  adding  that  she  herself  had  been 
attending  to  some  horsehair.  I  could 
not  quite  congratulate  her.  My  grand 
mother,  who  lived  in  Washington  Square, 
made  her  house  hideous  to  me  with 
furniture  covered  with  it." 

From  the  dining-room,  the  two  men 
had  passed  to  the  other.  Jones  gazed 
about  at  the  harmony  of  its  fittings. 

"In  addition  to  matrimony,  you  are 
not,"  he  continued,  "contemplating  any 
such  further  atrocity,  are  you?  " 

"No,"  said  Uxhill  absently.  He  had 
hardly  heard. 

But  Jones  had  had  enough  ;  he  got  into 

his  coat  and  got  away. 
210 


VI. 


A  BOVE,  on  the  ceiling,  the  cupids 
lounged  and  laughed.  To  them 
nothing  whatever  was  of  any  importance. 
In  their  attitude  was  supreme  philosophy. 
When  Jones  had  gone,  Uxhill  stared  at 
them,  but  unseeingly.  The  beauty  of 
their  significance  was  undiscerned.  He 
was  angry  at  the  world,  at  himself,  but, 
most,  at  Jones.  A  remark  of  the  lawyer's, 
suggesting  that  he  find  Maud  and  go  on 
his  knees  to  her,  rankled. 

You  don't  rob  a  man  and  beat  him, 
and  then  expect  him  to  apologize,  he 
told  himself.  Though,  perhaps,  lawyers 
do,  Of  course,  though,  he  understood, 
Jones'  admiration  for  Maud  was  so  ex 
alted  that  it  put  her  on  a  pedestal  which 

an  earthquake  could  not  shake.     At  the 
211 


VANITY   SQUARE 

same  time  it  was  very  tedious,  for  now  he 
would  have  to  get  some  else.  But, 
whom  ?  It  was  not  that  attorneys  were 
lacking.  The  woods  were  full  of  them. 
Some  had  the  theory  of  law,  but  not  the 
practice ;  some  knew  the  practice,  but 
not  the  law ;  while  the  majority  were 
profoundly  ignorant  of  either.  It  was 
certainly  very  tedious. 

In  considering  it,  anger  receded,  as 
anger  always  does.  In  its  place  weari 
ness  came.  From  the  debilitating  effects 
of  the  journey  to  nowhere  and  back  he 
had  not  yet  fully  recovered.  Recogniz 
ing  the  fact,  he  ambled  off  to  bed,  which 
is  always  a  very  safe  thing  to  do. 

On  the  morrow  he  lunched  at  the 
Athenaeum,  afterward  played  bridge,  and 
without  bothering  to  return  and  dress, 
dined  there,  trying  to  feel  that  he  was 
enjoying  himself. 

The   effort  was  not  successful.      The 

212 


VANITY   SQUARE 

solitude  of  his  house  accompanied  him. 
The  gloom  of  it  mantled  him  like  a  dis 
ease.  In  the  cards  which  he  held  he  saw 
other  faces  than  those  which  they  por 
trayed.  Sometimes  Maud's,  sometimes 
Stella's,  sometimes  both,  sometimes  so 
confusingly  that  he  was  in  doubt  who 
was  Queen  of  Hearts. 

In  this  confusion  and  the  doubt  of  it, 
he  succeeded  very  perfectly  in  making 
himself  very  agreeable.  His  money  ran 
like  a  fox  before  the  hounds.  The  men 
with  whom  he  played  had  never  sus 
pected  before  what  a  thoroughly  good 
chap  he  was.  Incidentally,  when  over 
the  true  identity  of  the  Queen  of  Hearts, 
the  doubt  came ;  always  after  it  there 
trailed  the  memory  of  Maud's  ruthless 
desertion ;  while,  before  him,  surged  a 
vision  of  Stella's  starlike  eyes.  Then, 
although  the  doubt  retreated,  the  money 
did  not  return. 

213 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Those  eyes  were  a  godsend  to  the 
men  that  sat  about.  Stocks  were  abyss- 
mally  low  that  winter,  with  every  menace 
of  going  lower  yet.  No  one  knew  where 
the  subsidence  would  cease.  The  men 
who  were  not  hurt  felt  that  they  were, — 
asking  themselves  were  they  going  to  the 
poor-house,  and  telling  each  other  that 
they  were  already  there, — questions  and 
answers  which  Uxhill's  cheques  momen 
tarily  relieved,  and  which,  gladly  enough, 
he  would  have  enlarged  if  only  their  mul 
tiplication  could  have  relieved  him. 

Time,  in  which  all  things  unfold,  dis 
unite,  and  reassemble,  alone  could  do 
that.  Meanwhile  the  sense  of  desolation 
in  which  he  groped,  and  which,  when 
noticed  at  all  by  those  who  sat  about, 
was  attributed  to  the  preoccupations  of 
play,  instead  of  diminishing,  so  height 
ened  that  he  felt  he  could  stand  it  no 
longer,  that  he  must  see  Stella,  that  the 

214 


VANITY   SQUARE 

touch  of  her  hand  in  his  could  alone  dis 
pel  the  gloom  of  the  solitude  which  the 
presence  of  others  only  increased. 

Uxhill  had  not  an  idea  where  the 
girl's  lodgings  were.  But,  Patmore  must 
know,  he  reflected.  Patmore  had  had 
charge  of  her  things.  He  got  the  man  on 
the  telephone,  and  got,  too,  the  address, — 
a  street  in  the  West  Hundreds,  to  which  at 
once,  in  a  club  motor,  he  went  as  fast  as 
the  motor  could  go,  determining,  in  tran 
sit,  that  so  would  he  prevail  with  her  that 
thereafter,  until  the  divorce  was  secured, 
she  would  consent  to  see  him  each  day. 
It  was  damned  nonsense,  he  told  himself, 
that  she  should  hold  herself  so  aloof. 
Yet,  in  his  heart,  it  was  nonsense  for 
which  he  admired  her  the  more.  Every 
thing  she  had  done  or  said,  even  to  that, 

o 

particularly  to  that,  had  made  him  see 
that  she  was  one  whom  always  he  could 
wholly  trust, — one  whose  mind  was  clean 

215 


VANITY   SQUARE 

as  wholesome  fruit,  one  who,  in  respect 
ing1  herself,  compelled  others  to  respect 
her,  one  who  could  never  derogate  from 
her  own  ideals, — a  girl  who  could  make  a 
boor  chivalrous,  and  the  chivalrous  bend 
the  knee. 

Nonetheless,  he  determined  to  prevail 
with  her.  Ordinarily,  of  course,  he  would 
not  have  attempted  to.  But  he  had  the 
blues,  and  those  blues  she  alone  could 
cure.  To  others  than  lawyers,  practice 
and  theory  are  not  the  same. 

In  the  present  instance,  however,  it  so 
fell  about  that  they  were  forced  to  fuse. 
At  the  address  in  the  West  Hundreds,  an 
address,  Uxhill  discovered,  which  resumed 
itself  into  a  private  hotel, — for  young 
women  only,  and  superselect  young 
women  at  that, — there  could  be  no  pre 
vailing,  no  resistance,  either. 

That  morning  Miss  Sixmith  had  gone 
to  Canada,  though  whether  to  Montreal, 

216 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Ottawa,  or  Quebec,  she  had  temporarily 
omitted  to  state. 

In  circumstances  such  as  these,  to 
natures  such  as  UxhuTs,  a  physician  of 
the  soul  once  offered  the  following  very 
excellent  prescription  :  Lascia  la  donna 
e  studia  la  matematica. 

Unconsciously,  Uxhill  rememorated  it. 
Only  for  mathematics  he  substituted 
cards.  The  motor  scurried  him  back  to 
the  green  baize  of  the  tables,  where 
the  money  he  got  rid  of  was  so  profusely 
distributed  that,  when  at  last  he  left  for 
his  empty  house,  he  was  the  most  popu 
lar  man  in  the  club. 

"What  was  it?"  he  asked  himself  in 
the  cab  that  took  him  away  ;  "what  was 
the  name  that  Sayce  gave  to  the  malady 
which  he  said  psychology  recognized,  and 
which  consists  in  the  fear  of  going  home  ? 
Anyway,"  he  decided,  "I  have  it.  More 
over,  as  Stella  has  so  arranged  things  as 
217 


VANITY   SQUARE 

to  prevent  me  from  seeing  her  until  I 
have  the  divorce,  I  will  start  for  Rhode 
Island  to-morrow." 

There  are  morrows  that  never  dawn. 


218 


VII. 

/TAHE  next  morning,  Uxhill  found  him 
self  inundated  with  the  usual  letters, 
which,  as  usual,  he  did  not  read.  But,  on 
one  of  them  was  an  imprint  that  tempted. 
It  was  that  of  Crumings  &  Kim,  the  at 
torneys  who  had  so  civilly  acquainted 
Tatum  of  their  authority  to  accept  service 
in  any  action  against  Mrs.  Gerald  Uxhill 
which  Gerald  Uxhill,  esquire,  might  bring. 

The  present  communication  was  equally 
civil.  It  set  forth  the  perfectly  legitimate 
wish  of  their  client  to  recover  her  ward 
robe,  and  suggested  that,  with  Mr.  Ux 
hill' s  permission  and  at  Mr.  Uxhill' s  con 
venience,  packers  would  be  sent. 

In  pauses  of  his  perplexities,  Uxhill  had 
thought  of  this  before.  In  ordinary  cir 
cumstances,  long  since  the  things  would 

219 


VANITY   SQUARE 

have  been  shipped.  If  he  had  been  un 
able  to  detain  the  lady,  certainly  he  had 
no  wish  whatever  to  detain  her  clothes,  or 
any  of  the  thousand  accessories  that  go 
to  the  making  of  a  woman's  atmosphere 
in  her  home.  But,  how  may  things  be 
shipped  to  one  who  has  no  known  ad 
dress  ?  The  fact  had  affected  him.  It 
had  seemed  to  him  that  Maud,  in  her 
flight,  had  taken  only  necessities,  aban 
doning  everything  else  ;  unwilling  to  be 
cumbered  with  objects  associated  with 
him.  Whatever  the  cause  of  her  going, 
he  felt  that  he  had  not  deserved  that. 

Then,  too,  there  were  Mowgy's  toys, 
the  little  precious  things  which  were  hers, 
which  she  liked  no  one  but  herself  to 
touch,  but  which  occasionally,  as  a  great 
treat,  she  displayed,  one  after  another, 
admiringly  to  her  papa.  These  things 
Uxhill  knew  that  the  child  would  miss, 

knew  that  their  absence  would  hurt  her 
220 


VANITY    SQUARE 

with  one  of  those  hurts  of  childhood  that 
are  the  more  tragic  in  that  they  are  inex 
plicable,  and,  as  such,  never  forgot.  What 
hurt  her  at  all,  hurt  him  far  more. 

Now,  on  receipt  of  the  letter,  he  gnawed 
at  his  moustache.  In  view  of  the  fact  that, 
already,  he  had  been  officially  acquainted 
with  the  existence  and  attributes  of  Crum- 
ings  &  Kim,  it  was  for  him  to  have 
offered  to  dispatch  the  things,  instead  of 
growling  around  like  a  dog  in  the  man 
ger,  until  prompted  regarding  a  matter, 
of  which,  unprompted,  he  should,  have 
written  himself.  After  all,  it  was  but  a 
detail.  Yet,  to  the  fastidious,  details 
count. 

There  and  then,  Uxhill  gave  orders  to 
have  the  things  packed,  and  to  Crumings 
&  Kim  he  wrote  a  line  setting  forth 
that  at  any  time  the  next  day  the  effects 
would  be  delivered  to  anybody  they 

might    send.       "  Or,"    he  was    about    to 
221 


VANITY  SQUARE 

add,   "to  any  address  with  which  I  am 
furnished." 

But,  that  he  judged  superfluous.  Crum- 
ings  &  Kim  would  furnish  nothing.  Yet, 
that  which  they  would  not  furnish,  he 
might  obtain.  There  was  nothing  what 
ever  to  prevent  him  from  having  the 
things  followed.  Where  they  went,  Maud 
would  be,  and  Mowgy  as  well.  No  ;  there 
was  nothing  to  prevent  him  except  his 
conceptions  of  what's  what.  An  enter 
prise  of  that  nature  would,  he  reflected, 
be  distinctly  underhand.  At  the  same 
time  there  was  nothing  particularly  open 
and  above  board  in  the  manner  in  which 
Maud  had  taken  herself  and  his  child 
away.  Even  so,  the  methods  of  other 
people  cannot  legitimatize  any  lack  of 
square-dealing  in  your  own.  Then,  too, 
in  love  and  war,  women  have  not  always 
the  same  high  regard  for  what's  what 
which  they  might.  They  are  the  weaker 

222 


VANITY   SQUARE 

vessel,  and  must  be  treated  as  such. 
Moreover,  and  here  was  the  main  point, 
to  which  Uxhill  in  his  cogitations  reached 
at  last :  A  gentleman  never  sees  any 
thing  that  was  not  intended  for  him. 

As  a  result,  he  left  the  matter  to  take 
care  of  itself.  But,  for  that  day  at  least, 
he  thought  the  journey  to  Rhode  Island 
might  as  well  be  postponed.  Then,  the 
orders  given,  the  letter  dispatched,  he  got 
away  into  club-land,  where  he  remained 
until  night. 

The  morrow  was  more  episodical.  By 
the  afternoon  train  he  proposed  to  go  to 
Newport.  Long  before  that  train  had 
any  intention  of  starting,  the  morning  post 
brought  him  a  note  of  legal  thanks,  saying 
that  shortly  an  expressman  would  stop 
by  for  the  effects. 

With  that  the  episodical  day  began. 

A  trifle  before  noon,  Uxhill  was  in  the 
hall.  He  had  been  helped  into  his  coat. 

223 


VANITY    SQUARE 

His  hat  had  been  handed  him.  A  man 
held  his  stick,  which,  his  gloves  buttoned, 
he  was  about  to  take,  when  the  bell  rang 
and  there  was  the  expressman,  a  blond 
giant,  producing  an  order  for  trunks. 

Uxhill  looked  at  it.  "  Where  are  you 
to  take  them?"  he  asked. 

"To  the  Buckingham,  sir." 

"  What !  To  the  Buckingham,  on  Fifth 
Avenue?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  Buckingham  was  less  than  a  mile 
away,  practically  around  the  corner,  five 
minutes  in  a  cab,  ten  on  foot.  Uxhill 
passed  on  and  out.  Beyond  was  Central 
Park,  swooning  in  excesses  of  snow, 
striated  with  trees,  from  the  branches  of 
which  icicles  hung  and  glittered.  Though 
the  cold  was  polar,  the  sky  was  equato- 
rially  blue.  The  eager  air,  that  slapped 
you  with  a  smart  that  made  your  cheeks 
feel  like  porcelain,  had  in  it  little  motes 

224 


VANITY   SQUARE 

that  dazzled.  But,  the  exhilaration  which 
the  sheen  of  them  induced,  Uxhill  at  first 
did  not  notice. 

He  was  occupied  with  a  novelty  which  he 
had  encountered  in  the  pocket  of  his  over 
coat,  the  pistol  which,  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  he  had  told  Patmore  to  get  for 
him,  and  then  had  utterly  forgot  What 
earthly  use  had  he  for  it  ?  he  asked  him 
self.  Hold-ups  do  not  occur  in  the  day 
time,  in  Vanity  Square  at  least,  and,  at 
night,  not  being  as  mad  about  exercise  as 
Jones  was,  he  was  never  on  foot. 

Then,  precisely  as  he  had  forgotten 
that  he  told  Patmore  to  put  the  thing  in 
his  pocket,  he  forgot  that  it  was  there. 
He  had  other  matters  on  his  mind.  The 
fact  that  Maud  was  within  hailing  distance 
routed  everything  else.  The  sheer  sim 
plicity  of  it  bewildered.  There  were 
times  when  he  fancied  her  in  Mexico, 

others  when  he  believed  she  might  be  on 
15  225 


VANITY   SQUARE 

the  Mediterranean,  but  always  nebulously 
in  some  spot  which  he  never  could  find, 
and  to  which  he  never  would  know  why 
she  had  gone. 

Instead  of  which,  she  was  around  the 
corner,  the  toss  of  a  stone  from  the  Athe 
naeum  Club.  But,  though  the  simplicity 
of  that  was  startling,  yet,  he  reflected,  it 
coincided  curiously  with  her  entire  sans- 
gene.  Quite  as  her  attorneys  had  made 
it  clear  that  it  was  immaterial  to  her 
whether  he  brought  suit,  or  whether  he 
did  not,  so,  obviously,  it  was  one  to  her 
whether  or  not  he  chanced  on  her  in  the 
street. 

Only,  Uxhill  told  himself,  the  obvious 
is  misleading.  It  was  all  too  damned  ob 
vious  to  be  other  than  phantasmagoric. 
For  what  in  the  world  was  there  to  pre 
vent  him  from  marching  to  her  rooms, 
marching  in,  and  marching  Mowgy  away? 
It  was  absurd  on  the  face  of  it.  She 


VANITY  SQUARE 

could  not  be  at  the  Buckingham.  Prob 
ably  Crumings  lodged  there,  or  Kim,  and 
one  or  the  other  of  them  had  the  trunks 
fetched  to  the  hotel  for  subsequent  trans 
shipment. 

In  Uxhill's  brisk  descent  of  the  Avenue, 
already  the  Park  and  its  excesses  of  snow 
had  been  left  behind.  The  Plaza,  too,  he 
had  passed.  Before  him  the  Cathedral 
tossed,  like  cries,  its  spires  in  the  biting 
air.  The  brick  and  brown  of  the  Buck 
ingham  were  just  beyond.  In  a  moment 
he  would  know. 

In  a  moment  he  did.  Entering  the 
hotel,  he  went  to  the  desk  and  asked  if 
Mrs.  Uxhill  was  in,  producing  a  card  on 
which  the  clerk  scribbled  a  number, 
gave  it  to  a  bell-boy,  and  told  him  he 
would  see. 

Maud  was  there,  then.  In  a  crescendo 
of  bewilderment  he  turned  away,  con 
templating  with  unseeing  eyes  piles  of 

227 


VANITY   SQUARE 

papers  and  magazines  which  another 
desk  contained, — a  contemplation  which 
the  bell-boy  interrupted. 

The  party  was  out. 

Well,  why  not?  Uxhill  reflected.  It 
might  be  so.  He  could,  of  course,  sit 
about  and  wait.  He  could  also  go  away 
and  return,  demand  access  to  Mowgy, 
and,  the  demand  denied,  apply  for  a 
habeas  corpus. 

At  the  thought  of  all  that  he  felt  extra 
ordinarily  hot,  and,  unbuttoning  his  over 
coat,  strode  out  into  the  eager  air.  It 
nipped  him.  He  meditated  an  imme 
diate  descent  on  some  one  of  the  many 
lawyers  that  he  knew,  and  mapped  an 
instant  campaign.  But,  in  the  refresh 
ment  of  the  air,  he  concluded  that  the 
telephone  might  spare  him  any  such 
bother,  and,  besides,  in  the  present  and 
surprising  condition  of  things,  it  were, 
perhaps,  better  to  see  if  he  could  not 

228 


VANITY   SQUARE 

get  Jones  to  learn  for  him  the  lay  of 
the  land. 

Then  presently  he  reached  the  club, 
where  latterly  he  had  become  so  popular. 
At  the  time  it  was  empty.  In  the  read 
ing-room,  before  an  open  fire,  two  old 
men  were  comparing  ailments.  Other 
wise  there  was  no  one.  Uxhill  got  out 
of  his  coat,  went  to  the  telephone-room, 
told  the  operator  to  call  Jones,  and,  at 
once  almost,  he  was  talking  to  him,  tell 
ing  him  that  Maud  was  at  the  Bucking 
ham,  asking  him  to  go  to  her,  and  to  insist 
that,  without  forcing  him  to  uncivil  pro 
ceedings,  she  give  up  the  child. 

uAnd  herself,  too,  of  course,"  Jones 
replied. 

"  You  may  say,  if  you  like,  that  I  have 
but  one  desire  regarding  her,  and  that  is 
never  to  see  her  again." 

"Til  be  shot  if  I  do!"  Jones  shouted 
back.  "  I  will  carry  no  such  message. 

229 


VANITY   SQUARE 

But,  your  child  is  a  different  matter.     I 
will  see  about  that.     Where  are  you  ?" 

"At  the  Athenaeum." 

"  Stay  there,  then,  until  you  hear  from 


me." 


It  was  then  one  by  the  clock.  It  would, 
Uxhill  knew,  be  at  least  an  hour  before 
he  could  possibly  hear.  He  joined  the 
old  men.  But,  their  complaints  failed  to 
interest  him  very  deeply.  The  haunting 
query  had  returned.  Yet,  not  as  before. 
The  enigma  of  the  great  Why  was  as 
mysterious  as  ever,  but  the  solution  over 
which  he  had  puzzled  had  lost  its  disturb 
ing  force.  It  could  no  longer  change  the 
course  of  events.  He  had  been  shame 
lessly  treated,  and  though  an  explanation 
of  that  treatment  might  possibly  be  forth 
coming,  yet  for  it  there  could  never  be 
the  slightest  excuse.  While  one  old  man 
was  telling  of  his  lumbago,  and  another 
of  his  gout,  such  were  Uxhill' s  thoughts. 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Pretexting  a  pretext,  he  left  them  and 
ordered  lunch.  In  spite  of  the  walk,  the 
eager  air  and  the  bite  of  it,  he  was  not 
very  hungry  that  day.  He  wished  to  the 
devil  it  were  all  over.  He  wished  that 
he  and  that  lovely  girl  were  sailing  away 
to  some  lovely  shore,  where,  in  a  fever  of 
perpetual  caresses,  perpetual  summer 
would  be  theirs.  He  thought  of  Bora 
Bora.  But  he  put  it  from  him.  It  was 
too  much  of  a  job  to  get  there. 

Zante  occurred  to  him,  the  isola  doro, 
the  hyacinthine  isle,  where  the  slopes  and 
intervales  are  rose  when  they  are  not 
purple,  where  the  sky  is  a  stretch  of  silk 
wadded  with  films  of  pink  cotton,  where 
there  is  no  violet  deeper  than  the  velvet 
of  its  nights,  where  the  air,  a  bath  of  gold, 
is  shuttled  with  the  color  of  dreams,  with 
dreams  changing  colors, — with  salmon, 
saffron,  and  smalt. 

In  the  beauty  of  it  all,  Stella  would  fit 

231 


VANITY   SQUARE 

like  a  flower  of  flesh,  and  at  sight  of  her 
the  grave  lonians  would  stop,  and,  mus 
ing,  wonder  could  the  young  Venus  of 
their  ancient  faith  again  from  the  sacred 
sea  have  arisen. 

It  was  a  delightful  picture.  It  needed 
only  the  accompaniment  of  a  little  music 
to  be  perfect.  Having  intercepted  it,  and, 
incidentally,  having  eaten  a  supreme  of 
chicken  with  a  big  bit  of  pistache  in  the 
middle,  Uxhill  lit  a  cigar,  long,  thin  and 
black,  at  the  end  of  which  those  case 
ments  formed  that  open  on  the  marvel  of 
lands  where  dreams  come  true,  and  then, 
it  may  be,  occasionally  turn  into  night 
mare.  On  the  fair  perspectives  Uxhill 
gazed  until  a  head-waiter,  approaching, 
arranged  a  chair  for  Mr.  Yoda  Jones. 

Uxhill  started.  But,  then,  he  had  been 
far  away.  He  looked  at  Jones,  then  at 
his  watch.  It  was  just  three.  Such  were 
the  imaginary  enchantments  which  the 

232 


VANITY  SQUARE 

imaginary  casement  disclosed  that  time 
had  passed  unnoticed.  He  had  fan 
cied  it  much  earlier  and  said  as  much, — 
a  remark  which  Jones  treated  like  a  cob 
web. 

Seating  himself  and  addressing  Uxhill 
without  the  faintest  exhibition  of  any  one 
of  the  many  bagatelles  of  the  intercourse 
known  as  courteous,  "You  can,"  he 
announced,  "  see  your  child  whenever  you 
get  ready.  It  is  your  right,  in  the  first 
place ;  moreover,  it  is  one  that  nobody 
proposes  to  contest.  But" — ,  and  Jones, 
as  he  threw  out  the  monosyllable,  gave 
Uxhill  a  look  that  was  tantamount  to  a 
blow — ,  "take  the  child  away  and  it  is 
murder." 

"What?" 

"You  understand  English,  I  believe?" 
Jones,  poking  his  head  out  like  a  turtle, 
inquired.  "  Yes.  Well,  I  said  murder. 
M-u-r-d-e-r  !  Did  you  get  it  ?  You  will 

233 


VANITY  SQUARE 

kill  your  wife, — that's  what  you'll  do  ; 
confound  you." 

"  But,  see  here  !"  Uxhill  furiously  inter 
jected  ;  "  hold  on  a  minute.  What  the 
devil  are  you  driving  at  ?  What  did  she 
say?" 

"I  have  told  you,"  Jones  curtly,  with 
his  most  brutal  air,  replied. 

"  You  have  not  told  me  why  she  left 
me." 

"I  have  that.  I  told  you  before  I  saw 
her.  She  left  because  of  your  matrimo 
nial  intentions." 

"  But,  confound  it,  at  the  time  I  had 
none.  The  idea  had  not  entered  my 
head.  How  could  it  have  ?" 

"Perhaps,"  said  Jones,  "you  had  it 
subconsciously  and  talked  of  it  in  your 
sleep.  How  do  I  know  what  you  did,  or 
what  you  did  not?"  he  angrily  resumed. 
"  I  asked  your  wife  if  she  cared  to  tell  me 
her  reason.  She  answered  that  when 

234 


VANITY   SQUARE 

you  were   free,   you  would  marry  Miss 

S*      *  i_i_  '  * 
ixmith. 

At  that,  Uxhill,  who  had  been  leaning 
on  the  table,  staring  at  Jones,  sank  back 
in  his  chair. 

"  God  alone  knows  where  she  got  that. 
The  only  people  who  knew  are  Miss  Six- 
mith  and  myself.  Certainly  she  did  not 
get  it  from  me,  and  she  could  not  have 
got  it  from  Miss  Sixmith.  Miss  Sixmith 
knew  no  more  than  I  did  where  she 


was." 


"  On  the  contrary,  Miss  Sixmith  knew 
very  well  where  she  was.  She  knew 
that  she  was  in  bed,  —  ill  there." 

"  But,  confound  it,  can't  you  or  won't 
you  understand  that  at  that  time  I  had 
not  asked  Miss  Sixmith  to  marry  me?" 

"  Oh,  I  hardly  suppose  that  in  so  many 
words  you  made  a  formal  proposition 
that  she  should  accord  you  her  hand  in 
holy  matrimony.  But,  that  she  was 

235 


VANITY   SQUARE 

aware  of  your  intentions  is  clear  from  the 
fact  that  your  wife  was  also.  " 

Uxhill  pulled  at  his  moustache.  The 
obstinate  stupidity  of  Jones  irritated  him 
so  that  he  could  have  struck  him.  But, 
in  the  clubdom  of  Vanity  Square,  a  re 
lapse  into  such  primal  primitiveness  does 
not  do. 

"I  tell  you,"  he  angrily  repeated, 
"that  I  had  no  such  intentions.  Miss 
Sixmith  could  not  have  been  aware  of 
them,  or  Maud,  either.  But,  let  it  go. 
Was  that  her  reason  for  leaving?" 

"  I  hardly  see  what  better  reason  she 
or  any  other  woman  could  have.  When 
I  asked  her  she  said  at  once  that  you  pro 
posed  to  marry  again,  and,  as  you  had 
admitted  it,  I  could  not  deny  it.  It  was 
then  that  she  said  she  would  not  contest 
any  action ;  on  the  contrary,  that  she  would 
facilitate  you  ;  but,  she  told  me  to  beg  you 
to  leave  her  the  child.  I  felt  it  my  duty 

236 


VANITY   SQUARE 

to  say  that  if,  instead  of  facilitating 
you,  she  resisted  any  action  you  brought, 
and  showed  how  you  had  been  carry 
ing  on  under  her  nose,  it  was  she  who 
would  get  the  decree  and  the  child  as 
well." 

"  I  was  not  carrying  on  under  her 
nose,"  Uxhill  ragingly  retorted;  "it  is 
an  outrage  for  you  to  suggest  it." 

"When  I  told  her  that,"  Jones  imper- 
turbably  pursued,  "she  replied  that  she 
would  not  contend  with  you,  but  that  if 
you  took  the  child,  you  would  take  her 
life  with  it.  Now,  Uxhill—" 

"Yes,  I  know,  you  want  me  to  be  leni 
ent  with  a  woman  who  drove  me  nearly 
if  not  quite  insane,  who  for  no  reason 
whatever,  for  none,  I  tell  you,  for  there 
was  none,  left  me,  abducted  my  child  and 
went  to  her  father." 

"  From  whom,  by  the  way,  you  abducted 

her,  and  who,  when  she  sought  refuge  with 
237 


VANITY   SQUARE 

him,  told  her  that  she  had  made  her  bed, 
and  that  she  could  lie  on  it.  After  tak 
ing  her  from  her  home,  you  have  forced 
her  from  yours.  She  has  nowhere  to  go. 
Only  her  child  has  she  left  to  her,  and  you 
want  to  take  that.  You  have  ruined  her 
life.  But  ruin  is  not  enough  for  you. 
You  want  to  kill  her  as  well.  Were  it 
not  for  the  child  she  would  be  glad  to 
have  you,  glad  to  go,  glad  to  be  dead. 
And  it  is  you  who  have  brought  her  to 
that.  But,  you  have  been  able  to  only 
because  she  loved  you.  It  is  a  fine 
reward.  I  told  her  so.  Yes,  and  she 
would  not  listen  to  me.  She  would  listen 
to  nothing  against  you.  Uxhill,  do  you 
hear  what  I  am  saying  ?  She  stopped  me 
when  I  started  to  tell  her  what  I  thought 
of  you.  Well,  at  any  rate,  I  have  told 
you.  I  should  have  suffocated  if  I  had 
not." 

Jones  turned,  and,  with  an  uplift  of  the 


VANITY   SQUARE 

chin,  summoned  a  waiter.     "  Fetch  me  a 
whiskey  and  soda." 

Uxhill  turned  also.  He  felt  profoundly 
misused.  Prior  to  Maud's  exit,  save  for 
one  brief  mood  that  had  departed  as  ab 
ruptly  as  it  had  come,  save  that  and  an 
equally  brief  passage-at-arms,  there  had 
been  nothing  in  his  conduct  to  which  a 
saint  could  object,  there  had  been  noth 
ing  on  his  conscience  which  a  seraph 
would  reprove.  He  felt  that.  He  felt  it 
so  strongly  that  he  felt  that  everybody 
concerned  ought  to  feel  it,  too.  Instead 
of  which,  through  some  unaccountable 
shuffle  of  the  cards,  one  that  he  could  no 
more  explain  to  himself  than  he  could 
explain  Maud's  exit,  he  who  had  done 
nothing,  and  to  whom  everything  had 
been  done,  suddenly,  through  this  prodi 
gious  shuffle,  was  turned  into  a  villain  in 
a  melodrama,  feeding  on  women's  tears. 
He  was  guiltless,  yet  held  guilty,  while  the 

239 


VANITY   SQUARE 

real  criminal  was  converted  into  a  suffer 
ing  angel  before  his  eyes. 

Strangling  an  oath,  he  stared  at  Jones, 
who,  having  had  his  say,  was  refreshing 
himself  with  a  great  glass  of  bubbling 
stuff  that  had  effected  its  entrance  with 
a  pop  ! 

At  other  tables  other  men  were  lunch 
ing  belatedly.  Without,  in  the  hall, 
others  were  entering  a  room  where  Ux- 
hilFs  money  had  run  like  a  fox.  From 
without  came  the  jingle  of  sleigh-bells, 
the  cries  of  brutes  swearing  at  their 
horses,  the  sound  of  hammering  and  of 
engines  working  at  the  ceaseless  sky 
scrapers  ceaselessly  going  up,  the 
metallic  roar  of  the  city. 

Of  it  all,  Uxhill  was  unconscious.  One 
fact  alone  stood  out.  He  was  inex 
plicably  misused.  Jones,  through  some 
impediment  of  thought,  was  not  only 
incompetent  to  see  things  as  they  were, 

240 


VANITY   SQUARE 

but  now,  after  having  damned  him  up  hill 
and  down,  was  affecting,  if  you  please,  a 
remoteness  that  seemed  to  say,  you  are 
not  fit  to  be  spoken  to. 

Thereat,  as  though  to  put  an  accent  on 
this  impression,  Jones,  the  bubbling  stuff 
absorbed,  stood  up,  and,  without  as  much 
as  a  nod,  marched  off. 

But,  that  was  the  extra  drop.  Uxhill 
felt  not  merely  misused,  but  robbed. 
Jones  was  taking  away  with  him  the 
opportunity  of  being  told  what  a  con 
founded  ass  he  was  ;  what  a  confounded 
ass  he  had  always  thought  him, — a  con 
founded  ass,  indeed,  with  whose  asininity 
he  wished  nothing  further  to  do. 

That  robbery  was  more  than  Uxhill 
could  bear.  He  started  from  his  seat. 
But  in  the  hall,  in  which  Jones'  retreating 
back  was  still  discernible,  were  men  with 
whom  Uxhill  was  very  popular  ;  a  group 
of  them  detained  him,  asking  were  he  not 

1 6  241 


VANITY   SQUARE 

to  join  them,  urging  him  to  come  and 
play.  When  he  was  free  of  them,  Jones, 
like  a  fiend  on  the  stage  disappearing  in 
a  trap,  had  entered  a  lift  and  vanished. 

When,  ultimately,  Uxhill  reached  the 
hall  below,  the  doorman  told  him  that 
Mr.  Jones  had  just  gone. 

Maltreated,  misused,  robbed-to-boot, 
Uxhill  became  immediately  conscious  of 
a  sense  of  being  absolutely  alone.  The 
colossal  city  had  been  converted  suddenly 
into  a  desert,  in  which,  Stella  gone,  there 
was  not  a  soul  with  whom  he  cared  to 
exchange  a  word. 

No  ;  not  one.  Only  a  little  girl,  too 
young  to  understand. 


242 


VIII. 

/CHILDREN  do  not  consider  the 
future,  they  do  not  bother  over 
the  past ;  to  them  the  present  is  alone 
important.  We  have  much  to  learn  of 
children.  Apart  from  the  charm  of  their 
charming  philosophy,  they  are  anarchists 
every  one.  They  all  wish  to  do  what 
pleases  them, — and  what  wish  is  more 
natural  ?  Sometimes  their  wish  is  real 
ized  ;  then,  instead  of  being  anarchists, 
they  are  autocrats  ;  for,  when  you  come 
to  look  at  it,  an  anarchist  merely  wants 
to  do  that  which  an  autocrat  can. 

To  Uxhill,  Mowgy  was  an  autocrat. 
He  never  thought  of  thwarting  her. 
Now,  the  memory  of  her  recurring,  he 
got  from  the  club,  and  made  for  the 
hotel. 

243 


VANITY   SQUARE 

At  the  desk  orders  evidently  had  been 
received.  There  was  no  sending  of 
cards  or  waiting  about ;  a  bell-boy, 
directed  at  once  what  to  do,  led  him 
to  a  dim  hall  and  to  a  door,  where  he 
knocked. 

But,  Uxhill,  unaccustomed  to  such  for 
malities,  opened  it  and  beheld  a  room,  at 
one  end  of  which  Nora  stood,  looking 
extremely  uncomfortable,  while,  on  the 
floor,  was  Mowgy. 

The  child  turned,  distended  her  mouth 
demeasurably,  got  precipitately  to  her 
little  feet,  with  a  bleat  of  joy  hurled  her 
self  in  his  arms,  and  then,  after  the 
fashion  of  children  who  invariably  perse 
cute  those  that  love  them,  she  proceeded 
to  tyrannize. 

"Take  me  home,"  she  ordered. 

At  the  side  of  the  room  a  lateral  door, 
behind  which  he  divined  the  presence  of 
Maud,  silently  was  closing. 

244 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Uxhill  kissed  the  little  girl.  "  Yes,  dear, 
presently." 

"No;  now,"  the  child  insisted. 

But  at  the  door  through  which  he  had 
come  there  was  fresh  knocking.  A 
waiter  appeared  with  bread  and  butter 
and  strawberry  jam,  which  Nora  took 
from  him. 

"  You  must  eat  your  supper  first,"  said 
Uxhill,  striving  not  to  thwart  but  to 
temporize.  "We  will  talk  about  it 
afterward."  He  turned  to  the  nurse. 
"Nora,"  he  added,  "you  need  not 
wait." 

Nora,     who,     at     the    moment,    was 
arranging  the    child's    supper,    looked  if 
possible    still  more  uncomfortable.     She 
glanced  at   Uxhill,   but  gingerly,  out  of 
the  corner  of  an  eye,   instantly  averted. 
But,  presently,  through  the  lateral  door, 
with  another  furtive  look,  she  departed. 
Uxhill,   occupied  with  Mowgy,  did  not 

245 


VANITY  SQUARE 

notice.  He  got  a  chair  and  seated  him 
self  beside  her. 

"  Now,  tell  me  all  about  where  you 
have  been." 

Mowgy  was  a  small  person  much  given 
to  routine.  Heretofore,  at  supper,  there 
had  been  stories.  What  heretofore  had 
been  must  therefore  be  now.  Besides, 
what  were  papas  for  except  to  entertain 
little  girls  ?  After  a  long,  leisurely  bite  at 
her  bread,  she  made  that  point  very  clear. 
Uxhill  knew  that  it  was  idle  to  argue. 
Like  water  from  a  faucet,  he  poured  a 
story  forth.  When  it  was  done  she 
exacted  another.  Then,  the  jam  finished, 
her  hunger  for  food  and  fiction  appeased, 
she  got  back  to  her  original  demand. 

Again  Uxhill  had  to  temporize.  He 
told  her  that  it  was  getting  late,  that 
presently  all  good  little  girls  would  be  in 
bed,  that  only  papas  who  were  very  big 
and  very  strong  ever  thought  of  being 

246 


VANITY  SQUARE 

out  at  such  an  hour,  but  that,  perhaps,  the 
next  day,  he  would  come  for  her  and 
Nora. 

"And  mamma,  too,  of  course,"  said 
Mowgy,  to  whom  the  oversight  was  an 
accident,  and  to  whom  also  the  objections 
appealed. 

"  Now,  you  run  to  her,"  Uxhill  replied  ; 
"but  say  good-night  to  me  first" 

The  child  did  as  she  was  bid.  Patting 
him  on  the  cheek,  she  said  good-night, 
and  going  to  the  door  that  led  to  the 
adjoining  room,  kissed  her  hand  to  him 
as  she  opened  it. 

Uxhill  went  out  into  the  hall.  Beyond, 
a  woman  was  loitering,  a  maid,  he  thought, 
but  who,  as  he  approached,  he  saw 
was  Nora.  She  was  holding  her  hands, 
in  an  attitude  respectful  and  shrinking. 

"Mr.  Uxhill,  sir,"  she  began,  "you 
won't  take  Mowgy,  will  you?" 

"Not  to-night ;  certainly  not." 

247 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"Not  to  Miss  Sixmith,  sir?" 

Uxhill  had  spoken,  as  he  went  on,  with 
out  stopping,  over  his  shoulder.  At  this 
he  stopped  short. 

"But  what/'  he  curtly  inquired,  "has 
Miss  Sixmith  got  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"Oh,  sir,  excuse  me,  sir;  but  I  have 
been  with  Miss  Maud,  with  Mrs.  Uxhill, 
I  mean,  sir,  since  she  was  a  little  baby, 
and  I  am  afraid,  sir — " 

Surprisedly  Uxhill  stared  at  the  woman. 
She  seemed  afflicted  with  ague.  She 
was  trembling,  and  a  handkerchief,  which 
nervously  she  had  been  tormenting  in 
her  hands,  she  put  to  her  eyes. 

"Afraid!"  he  exclaimed,  "afraid  of 
what?" 

But  now  Nora,  covering  her  face  with 
her  handkerchief,  sobbed  merely. 

"  Afraid  of  what  ?"  he  repeated.  What 
the  dickens  ailed  the  woman,  he  wrondered. 

"  You — you  know,  sir,"  she  whimpered. 

248 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  But,  hang  it,  I  don't  know;  what  in 
the  world  are  you  crying  about  ?" 

"It's  the— it's  the — it's  the  horsehair. 
Oh!" 

"  Horsehair !" 

But,  Nora,  the  handkerchief  still  at  her 
face,  was  slinking  away.  She  reached 
the  door  from  which  he  had  come.  It 
engulfed  her. 

"Horsehair!"  Uxhill,  following  her 
with  his  eyes,  reiterated.  "She's 
cracked." 

"Horsehair,"  he  resumed  to  himself,  as 
without  bothering  to  wait  for  the  lift, 
he  went  down  the  stairs;  "who  was  it 
spoke  to  me  about  horsehair?" 

He  had  forgotten.  It  was,  perhaps, 
some  club  stupidity  garnered  at  cards. 
But,  horsehair  is  a  thing  too  unsuggestive 
to  be  discussed  even  by  people  who  talk 
about  nothing.  The  fact  perplexed  him 
But  what  perplexed  him  most  was  Nora. 


VANITY   SQUARE 

For  years  he  had  seen  her  tending  Maud 
and  Mowgy  with  a  sort  of  slavish  devo 
tion,  yet  otherwise  prim,  angular,  rigid, 
respectability  personified,  trustworthiness 
made  nurse,  the  ideal  servant,  and  now 
suddenly  afraid  of  her  shadow. 

"  Certainly  she  is  cracked,"  he  decided. 
"  They  are  all  cracked.  Nora,  Maud, 
Jones,  the  whole  lot  of  them  ought  to  be 
in  Bloomingdale  !" 

At  the  thought  of  Jones,  the  recollec 
tion  of  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
carried  on  that  afternoon,  ousted  Nora 
and  her  craziness.  Except  on  the  theory 
that  Jones  was  so  dead  in  love  with 
Maud  that  nothing  she  could  possibly 
do  would  seem  to  him  other  than  celes 
tial,  and  anything,  no  matter  how  justi 
fied,  done  her,  would  seem  to  him 
distinctly  infernal,  except  on  that  theory, 
Uxhill  could  conjecture  nothing  that 
would  serve  at  all  to  explain  the 

250 


VANITY  SQUARE 

rhyme   and  reason  of  his    attitude  that 
day. 

But,  he  suddenly  queried,  did  it  not 
explain  more?  Did  it  not  explain  the 
whole  situation?  Did  it  not  explain 
Maud's  exit,  which,  in  forcing  him  to  get 
a  divorce,  left  her  free  to  marry  this  im 
becile  ?  In  explaining  that,  it  explained, 
too,  Jones'  obstinacy  in  maintaining  that 
Maud  had  left  him  because  of  what  he 
was  pleased  to  term  his  matrimonial 
intentions.  That,  of  course,  was  all 
damned  nonsense ;  Maud  never  could 
have  left  him  for  any  such  reason.  At 
the  time  she  went  he  had  no  intentions 
at  all.  The  intentions  had  come  later. 
He  had  admitted  that  to  Jones.  Jones 
had  repeated  the  admission  to  Maud, 
and  between  them,  as  an  excuse  for  her 
desertion,  they  had  concocted  this  cock- 
and-bull  story.  It  was  all  clear  as  day, 
and  showed,  too,  why  Jones  had  refused 

251 


VANITY   SQUARE 

to  act  for  him.  Of  course,  the  scoun 
drel  would  not  act  for  him, — he  pro 
posed  to  act  for  her !  It  was  a  con 
spiracy,  that's  what  it  was, — a  dirty,  dia 
bolic  plot. 

Long  since,  Uxhill  had  reached  the 
street.  Cold  as  it  was,  the  aspects  of 
the  tortuous  situation  made  him  far  hotter 
than  he  had  been  when  he  had  stalked 
from  the  hotel  earlier  in  the  day.  In  his 
excitement  he  had  passed  the  Athenaeum. 
He  turned  back  and  entered  the  club  on 
the  heels  of  a  man  muffled  to  the  ears, 
who  greeted  him  warmly,  with  affectionate 
solicitude.  It  was  Sayce. 

The  club  now  was  crowded.  In  a 
great  room  that  looked  on  Fifth  Avenue 
were  thick  groups.  In  the  main  hall  there 
were  more.  Through  coils  of  men,  ser 
vants  in  livery  passed  with  diminutive 
decanters,  with  mineral  waters,  cocktails, 
cigars. 

252 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Sayce  unmuffling  himself  had  the 
mufflings  taken  away. 

Uxhill,  too,  got  out  of  his  coat.  "  Are 
you  to  dine  here?"  he  asked.  Without 
waiting  to  learn,  he  added,  "Let's  go 
upstairs.  I  must  speak  to  you." 

Already  men  were  approaching. 
Among  others  the  old  man  who  had 
told  Uxhill  about  his  gout  that  noon. 
But,  Sayce,  knowing  from  experience 
what  to  expect,  eluded  him,  and,  followed 
by  Uxhill,  fled  to  a  lift  that  shot  them 
out  of  reach,  landing  them  on  a  floor  on 
which  was  the  library,  a  room  to  which 
nobody  ever  went  unless,  the  diminutive 
decanters  urging,  occasionally  a  member 
dropped  in  on  the  slumberous  armchairs 
that  were  there. 

Now  it  was  peopled  only  with  the 
caryatides  of  the  bookshelves,  the  demi 
gods  that  never  die,  but  who,  in  a  club 
like  this,  get  dusty.  Barring  the 

253 


VANITY   SQUARE 

bedrabbled  immortals,  the  room  was 
empty. 

Sayce,  letting  himself  on  a  sofa,  looked 
at  Uxhill. 

"Any  news?" 

"What  do  you  think?"  Uxhill  replied, 
squatting  in  a  neighborly  three-cornered 
chair  as  he  spoke.  "My  wife  and  child 
are  at  the  Buckingham.  I  have  just 
come  from  there.  I  saw  the  kid,  and  see 
now  the  whole  thing.  The  other  night  I 
spoke  to  Jones  about  getting  a  divorce. 
He  came  here  to-day  and  abused  me  like 
a  pickpocket.  Why  ?  Why,  indeed  !  Be 
cause,  after  the  divorce,  he  proposes  to 
marry  the  lady." 

Sayce  ran  a  hand  through  his  hair  and 
stared  surprisedly.  He  was  not  surprised 
in  the  least.  From  the  start  he  had  sus 
pected  something  of  the  sort,  only  he  had 
been  far  too  civil  to  intimate  it. 

"But,  dear  boy,  did  Jones  say  so?" 

254 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"No,  ruffian  that  he  is,  he  lacked  the 
pluck,  but — " 

Sayce  nodded.  "He  has  certainly 
always  admired  her  very  much.  But  so 
have  I.  So  has  everybody.  Mrs.  Uxhill 
is  one  in  a  million.  It  hardly  follows, 
though,  that — " 

Uxhill  interrupted  him.  "  I,  too,  thought 
her  one  in  a  million,  one  in  a  billion,  for 
that  matter.  That,  though,  is  neither  here 
nor  there.  The  point  is  that  Nora  is 
stark,  staring  mad,  and  I  want  you,  if  you 
will,  please,  to  look  her  over  and  pack 
her  off.  Mowgy  is  not  safe  with  her  ;  she 
can/t  be — " 

"Nora!"  Sayce  exclaimed.  "I  won't 
say  it  is  not  possible,  for  everything  is, 
but—" 

"Yes,  I  know.  But,  wait  a  second. 
Not  ten  minutes  ago,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  shaking  from  head  to  foot,  she  told 
me  that  she  was  afraid  of — what  do  you 

255 


VANITY   SQUARE 

suppose  ?  Horsehair  !  Not  a  horsewhip, 
but  horsehair.  Why  should  anyone  be 
afraid  of  that  ?  And  crying  and  sobbing 
over  it,  too.  Isn't  that  enough  ?  Isn't  it 
clear  that  she  is  cracked  ?  By  George,  I 
believe  they  all  are." 

"Hold  up  a  bit,"  Sayce  threw  in. 
"  How  did  it  come  about?  What  was  it 
in  connection  with?" 

"In  connection  with  Mowgy.  She 
said  she  was  afraid  of  horsehair  for  her. 
Horsehair,  now  !  There  is  nothing  evil 
about  horsehair,  is  there  ?" 

Sayce  tormented  an  eyebrow.  "Horse 
hair  per  se,  no.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
the  outside  of  a  horse,  and  that,  Pal- 
merston  said,  is  the  best  thing  for  the 
inside  of  a  man.  But,  he  did  not  mean 
when  taken  internally.  Then  it  might 
be  unpleasant." 

"  But,  whoever  would  think  of  taking  it 
internally  ?" 

256 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  Nobody  with  any  sense,  of  course. 
But  in  medico-legal  lore  there  is  a  myth 
ical  case  in  which  a  person,  without  sense 
and  without  scruples  either,  administered 
it  feloniously.  The  effort  was  unsuc 
cessful.  But,  the  story  got  about,  got 
twisted,  as  all  stories  do,  and,  in  the 
legend,  which  still  survives,  the  victim 
died." 

"I  never  heard  of  such  rubbish." 

''There  is  nothing  curious  in  that. 
What  is  curious  is  the  fact  that  Nora 
should  have.  I  don't  understand  it,  and 
what  I  don't  understand,  I  don't  like." 

-Nor  I,"  said  Uxhill.  -Who  does?" 
Suddenly  he  started.  "  There,"  he  ex 
claimed,  "  I  have  it !  Somebody  else  has 
talked  horsehair  to  me.  I  had  forgotten 
whom.  Like  that,  it  just  came  to  me  ! 
It  was  Jones.  He  asked  me  what  I 
thought  about  it?" 

"About    horsehair?"     Sayce  repeated 

17  257 


VANITY   SQUARE 

gravely.  Then  he,  too,  abruptly  started. 
Something  forgotten  must  as  suddenly 
have  occurred  to  him.  For  a  moment, 
his  face,  not  grave  merely  but  perplexed, 
he  sat  in  silence. 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?"  Uxhill 
asked. 

"  Do  you  know,"  Sayce  answered, 
rising  as  he  spoke,  "I  believe  I  will  go 
and  see  Nora.  I  believe  I  will  go  now. 
Will  you  wait  here?" 

"I  will  order  dinner.  What  would  you 
like?" 

11 A  bit  of  beef  and  a  baked  apple." 

"Not  together!"  Uxhill  called  after 
him. 

But  Sayce  had  gone. 

Uxhill  rang,  got  the  dinner-bill  for  the 
day,  wrote  a  list  of  dishes,  among  which 
beef  and  apple  were  presumably  included, 
and,  going  to  the  shelves,  took  down  a 
dusty  immortal,  one  at  whose  shrine 

258 


VANITY   SQUARE 

often,  in  younger  days,  he  had  paused, 
and  read  again  the  verse  of  Leconte  de 
Lisle,  the  royal  "Midi,"  the  prodigious 
"Vision  de  Brahma,"  the  enchanting 
"Sommeil  de  Leilah." 

Twice  a  servant  came,  telling  him  that 
dinner  was  announced,  but  he  did  not 
heed.  In  the  opiates  of  the  evocations 
he  forgot  Sayce,  forgot  himself,  and  so 
forgetting,  forgot,  too,  his  little  human 
soap-bubble  loves  and  hates. 

But  a  third  summons  awoke  him. 

"What  time  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"After  nine,  sir." 

"After  nine?"  It  seemed  incredible. 
Sayce  had  been  gone  since  seven. 
Usually  he  looked  a  patient  over  and 
in  five  minutes,  Good-day.  Uxhill  won 
dered  what  possibly  could  be  detaining 
him. 

"  I  wish,  please,"  he  ordered,  "  that  you 
get  the  doorman  to  send  into  the  Buck- 


VANITY   SQUARE 

ingham  and  inquire  of  Dr.  Sayce  when 
he  will  be  back.  Dr.  Sayce  is  with  Mrs. 
Uxhill." 

He  turned  again  to  the  drugs  in  the 
book,  to  the  "  Dies  irae," — the  sorcery 
of  a  somnambulist  of  song.  It  lulled  him. 

In  the  process  the  servant  returned. 

"  Dr.  Sayce,  sir,  left  the  Buckingham 
some  time  ago.  Yes,  sir." 

"  But,  didn't  he  come  back  here  ?  He 
must  be  in  the  club." 

"  No,  sir ;  the  doorman  says  not,  sir." 

Perplexed,  Uxhill  got  up.  He  did  not 
at  all  understand.  But  then  latterly  a 
number  of  things  had  managed  to  elude 
his  comprehension.  This  was  but  an 
other. 

With  the  idea  that  he  might  get  the 
physician's  secretary  on  the  wire,  he  went 
down  to  the  telephone-room  and  told 
the  operator  to  call  Dr.  Sayce.  When 
presently,  in  a  little  booth  which  the  man 

260 


VANITY   SQUARE 

indicated,  he  took  up  the  receiver,  he 
found  that  at  the  other  end  of  it  was 
Sayce  himself. 

"Hello!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  the 
dickens  is  the  matter?  I  thought  you 
were  coming  back." 

Then  through  the  instrument  came  the 
physician's  answering  voice : 

"  Uxhill,  it  is  not  for  me  to  condemn 
anyone  ;  but  to  you  I  intend  never  to 
speak  again." 

"  Sayce  !"    Uxhill  protested. 

The  cry  lost  itself.  At  the  other  end 
connection  had  been  cut. 

In  the  booth  was  but  a  stool,  on  which 
Uxhill  sat,  a  ledge  on  which  the  telephone 
stood  with  a  blank  wall  behind  it,  into 
the  blankness  of  which  he  stared. 

Was  the  whole  world  mad?  he  won 
dered,  or  was  he  ? 

With  such  queries  for  companions, 
dazed  and  a  bit  dizzy,  he  sat.  The 

261 


VANITY   SQUARE 

desertion  of  Maud  had  been  to  him  un 
fathomable.  The  ruffianism  of  Jones  had 
been  relatively  just  as  strange.  But, 
more  inexplicable  than  either  was  this 
slap  in  the  face.  An  hour  or  two  before, 
in  the  hall  without,  a  man  who  had 
greeted  him  with  solicitude  and  affection 
now  refused,  indeed,  to  condemn  him,  and 
refused  to  speak  to  him  as  well.  No ; 
that  man  would  not  condemn  him.  Yet, 
condemn  him  for  what  ?  For  what  ?  Nor 
would  he  speak  to  him  either.  And  why? 

1  'Why?"  he  repeated  to  the  wall. 
But  the  wall  was  not  responsive. 

Could  it  be  that  he  was  really  mad, 
and  that  these  things  were  hallucinations  ? 
But  to  this,  also,  the  wall,  like  the  tele 
phone,  was  dumb. 

That  evening  he  had  hit,  or,  what 
amounted  to  the  same  thing,  thought  he 
had  hit,  on  a  theory  that  explained,  more 
or  less  well,  everything  that  had  occurred. 

262 


VANITY   SQUARE 

But,  in  this  new  affront,  any  validity  the 
theory  may  have  had  took  itself  off  with 
a  run.  For  admitting  a  conspiracy,  cer 
tainly  Sayce  was  not  in  it,  yet  his  attitude 
was  quite,  if  not  more,  unaccountable 
than  the  attitude  of  those  that  were. 
Evidently,  if  he  himself  was  not  mad,  and 
evidently  he  was  not,  then  there  was 
something  else.  But  what?  Though  he 
tormented  himself  into  madness  in  an 
effort  to  learn,  he  knew  that  he  would 
never  succeed.  Had  Patmore  refused  to 
serve  him  or  the  chef  torn  his  apron  off, 
he  would  have  thought  merely  that  the 
air  of  free  America  had  gone  to  their 
heads  and  let  it  go  at  that.  But  that 
Sayce  should  turn  on  him, — no,  that,  he 
decided,  was  something  which  he  had 
awaited  as  little  as  that  Mowgy  should 
do  so  herself. 

And  who    knows,   the    poor   devil    re 
flected,    but    that    to-morrow    she   may? 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Who  knows,  he  added  in  the  miserable 
undertone  of  miserable  thought,  but  that 
Stella  will  catch  the  infection  and  turn 
from  me,  too  ? 

For  it  was  an  infection.  What  else 
could  it  be?  First,  Maud,  then  Jones, 
now  Sayce.  It  was  but  a  question  of 
time  when  his  sister  would  catch  it,  and 
everybody  would  go,  everybody  down  to 
and  including  Patmore  and  the  chef. 
Yet,  if  it  were  not  an  infection,  then,  in 
some  strange  and  subtle  way,  he  had 
become  as  one  accursed,  one  who,  for 
some  sin  unknown  to  him,  those  for  whom 
he  cared  shrank  from  and  shunned. 
"Are  you  using  the  'phone,  sir?" 
At  the  door  of  the  booth  the  operator 
stood,  eyeing  him  curiously.  In  that 
booth  he  had  seen  many  men  talking  to 
the  instrument,  but  none  ever  to  them 
selves.  He  did  not  regard  it  as  legiti 
mate. 

264 


VANITY   SQUARE 

-Oh!"  said  Uxhill.  Then,  rallying,  he 
added,  "  They  appear  to  have  cut  me 
off." 

With  his  usual  indifferent  air,  he  got 
out,  got  his  coat,  got  a  cab  and  drove  to 
that  house  of  his  that  was  haunted  now, 
and  perhaps  forever,  with  the  ghosts  of 
the  living, — with  the  memories  of  those 
who  had  known  him  and  would  know 
him  no  more. 


265 


IX. 


CNOW  was  falling  steadily  in  small, 
slow  flakes.  Uxhill  did  not  notice. 
When  a  man  speaks  to  another  as  Sayce 
had  to  him,  the  first  aid  for  the  injured 
Dante  supplies  :  "  Non  ragionam  di  lor ' 
ma  guarda  e  passa" 

To  Uxhill,  mere  human,  natural  pride 
counselled  the  adoption  of  that  very 
excellent  advice.  But,  pride  is  a  screen 
behind  which  we  rage  at  our  ease.  There 
are  occasions  when  it  is  much  braver  to 
dare  to  be  simple.  The  reason  of  the 
affront  was  wholly  unimaginable.  Be 
hind  it,  too,  were  possible  vastnesses  in 
which  imagination  might  readily  weary 
itself  uselessly  away,  the  great  blank 
voids  of  the  inscrutable,  where  thought 
either  falters  or  else,  returning,  saddens 
us  with  its  hopeless  mien. 

366 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Pride,  natural  and  human,  counselled 
Uxhill  to  have  no  further  heed  of  Sayce, 
to  proceed  without  argument  on  his  way. 
But,  the  equally  human  and  natural  de 
sire  to  know,  which,  unappeased,  may 
gnaw  more  sharply  than  hunger,  fast 
ened  on  him  so  irresistibly  that,  lowering 
the  window  of  the  cab,  he  threw  at  the 
driver  Sayce' s  address. 

The  cab  veered,  turned  into  a  side 
street,  where  presently  it  stopped. 

Uxhill  got  out.  Before  him  was  a 
brown  door,  through  which  again  and 
again  he  had  passed,  and  at  which,  shortly 
now,  a  maid  appeared,  who,  before  he 
could  question,  told  him  that  Dr.  Sayce 
was  not  in.  She  might  as  well  have 
held  her  tongue. 

Uxhill,  with  that  peremptoriness  which 
was  usual  to  him,  strode  by  her,  strode 
down  the  hall  to  another  door,  which, 
without  the  formality  of  a  knock,  he 

267 


VANITY   SQUARE 

threw  open  and  saw,  before  an  open  fire, 
beneath  a  big  chandelier  and  behind  a 
small  table  at  which  were  two  chairs, 
Sayce,  standing  bolt  upright,  looking 
remarkably  red. 

At  the  sight  of  Uxhill  he  stamped  a 
foot.  If  a  face  can  flame  his  did.  If 
eyes  could  kill  his  would  have. 

"  I  am  not  at  home  !"  he  bawled. 

"  Not  to  me,  I  am  aware.  Your  ser 
vant  has  so  informed  me.  But  why  ?" 

"  Because  I  am  out.  Is  not  that 
enough?  What  more  do  you  want?" 

Uxhill  nodded.  "  Yes.  But  you  owe 
it,  not  necessarily  to  me,  but  certainly  to 
yourself,  to  say  why.  I  have  done  noth 
ing  to  deserve  it." 

Furiously  through  his  hair,  Sayce  ran 
a  hand. 

"  Nothing  !  Nothing  !  Then  tell  me 
what  something  is  ?  Or,  rather,  don't  tell 
me.  I  don't  want  to  hear.  I  refuse  to 

268 


VANITY   SQUARE 

listen.  Leave  my  house.  You  tarnish 
it." 

Uxhill,  closing  the  door  behind  him, 
toweringly  advanced  on  the  fiery  little 
man. 

"  For  that,  were  you  a  bit  younger  and 
a  bit  bigger,  I  would  knock  you  down. 
You  know  it.  It  is  your  advantage.  It 
is  one,  though,  that  a  gentleman  would 
not  take.  Don't  do  so  again.  I  am  here 
for  an  explanation.  I  propose  to  have  it. 
But,  meanwhile,  in  spite  of  your  years,  I 
will  thrash  you  if  you  presume  again  on 
my  forbearance." 

"Thrash  me  !"  Sayce  shouted,  his  face 
livid,  one  arm  half  raised,  the  other  shak 
ing  at  his  side.  "  If  I  had  a  pistol  here  I 
would  give  you  the  bullet  you  deserve." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !"  Uxhill  answered,  negli 
gently  producing  the  novelty  which  that 
morning  he  had  found  in  his  pocket. 
"Well,  now,  here  is  one.  It  will  enable 


VANITY   SQUARE 

us  to  talk  on  equal  terms.     I  thank  you 
for  reminding  me  of  it." 

Sayce  glared  and  dropped  into  one  of 
the  chairs  by  the  table  at  which  he  stood. 

On  that  table  Uxhill  put  the  pistol, 
shoving  it  over  to  where  Sayce  was,  and, 
removing  his  hat,  took  the  other  chair 
and  sat  down. 

But,  at  this,  Sayce  got  up,  turned  his 
back  on  Uxhill,  took  a  poker  and  lunged 
viciously  at  the  fire.  It  was  not  redder 
than  he. 

The  bent  back  before  him  Uxhill 
addressed. 

"Will  you  tell  me  now  in  what  way  I 
have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  offend 
you  ?" 

Sayce,  the  poker  still  in  his  hand, 
wheeled  like  a  rat. 

"  Offend  me  !  Your  language  is  singu 
larly  colorless.  Offend  me !  The  one 
thing  in  life  I  cared  for  you  have  taken. 

270 


VANITY   SQUARE 

No  wonder  your  wife  had  to  go, — while 
she  still  had  the  strength.  Such  things 
are  not  done,  not  by  Apaches  even. 
Never  for  an  instant  would  I  have  let 
that  girl  within  a  mile  of  you  could  I 
have  conceived  what  you  would  do." 

Sayce  paused,  yet  only  for  lack  of 
breath.  But,  Uxhill,  who,  in  mounting 
amazement,  had  disentangled  from  the 
unrolled  skein  of  words  an  inkling  of 
what  he  meant,  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"But,  Sayce,  I  never  knew  that  you 
cared  for  her.  You  did  not  say,  nor  did 
she.  Not  for  a  moment  did  it  occur  to 
me—" 

"Why  should  I  have  said  anything? 
Besides,  it  is  your  wife  that  should  have 
occurred  to  you.  Your  wife  who — " 

Hotly  Uxhill  interrupted  him.  "I  assure 
you  that  not  until  my  wife  had  gone  did 
I  say  a  word  to  Miss  Sixmith." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  have  to  assure  me  of 

271 


VANITY   SQUARE 

that.  If  you  had,  she  is  not  the  girl  to 
have  listened.  The  marvel  of  it  is  that 
even  afterward,  when  your  wife  had  gone, 
she  consented.  But  she  little  knew  that 
your  wife  had  to  go, — while  she  could." 

"While  she  could  !"  Uxhill  repeated. 

"Yes,  while  she  had  the  strength.  It 
was  infernal,  the  whole  of  it,  even  to  your 
acting,  even  to  your  surprise  when  she 
had  gone,  even  to  your  idea  that  you  did 
not  exist.  Where  did  that  come  from 
except  from  the  fact  that  were  this  thing 
known  you  would  cease  to  ?" 

"Thing!  What  thing?  What  on 
earth — " 

"Yes,  infernal!"  Sayce,  brandishing 
the  poker,  shouted.  "And  in  spite  of  it, 
you  have  the  assurance  to  force  your  way 
here  and  to  tell  me  not  to  presume  on 
your  forbearance.  Yours,  indeed  !  Don't 
presume  on  mine.  There  is  your  pistol. 
Take  it.  Go  home  and  shoot  yourself." 

272 


VANITY   SQUARE 

The  chiding  of  a  torrent  is  futile. 
There  are  torrents  of  passion  which 
words  are  as  useless  to  stem.  They 
must  exhaust  themselves  before  speech 
may  prevail.  The  rabid  denunciation  of 
himself  at  which  Uxhill  was  forced  to 
assist  was  wholly  incomprehensible. 
One  dim  point  alone  was  dimly  clear,  the 
man's  undivined  infatuation  for  the  girl 
who  was  dear,  too,  to  him.  The  rest 
was  thick  darkness. 

"  Yes,  go,"  Sayce  cried,  his  great  eye 
brows  raised  and  contracted,  the  poker 
hanging  in  his  hand.  "  You  came  for  an 
explanation.  You  have  had  it.  You 
have  had  more  than  you  asked.  You 
have  had  two.  Take  them  and  be  off, 
take  the  pistol  also,  or,  if  that  is  too 
much  for  you,  take  your  infernal  drug." 

Uxhill,  the  thick  darkness  grown 
thicker  about  him,  managed  here  with 
contrasting  composure  to  interrupt  again. 

18  273 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"But,  Sayce,  what  are  you  talking 
about  ?  To  what  drug  do  you  refer  ?  To 
the  opiate  you  gave  me  ?  Why  should  I 
take  that  ?  Might  it  not  be  better  if  you 
took  some  yourself?" 

Sullenly,  Sayce  looked  at  him,  and, 
bending,  hissed,  "You  know  the  drug  I 
mean,  one  of  which  the  final  effect  may 
be  delayed  at  will  for  weeks,  for  months, 
during  which  it  simulates  an  ordinary 
disease,  and,  the  more  infernally,  in  that 
its  absorption  removes  it  beyond  the 
chance  of  detection.  That  is  the  drug 
I  mean,  and  which  in  your  hands  failed 
only  because  Nora  was  one  too  many  for 
you  ;  because  she  secreted  enough  for 
analysis  and  learned  that  it  was  orsere, 
horsehair  as  she  got  it,  the  most  subtle 
poison  known,  and  with  which  you  were 
dosing  your  wife, — and  why  ?  Because  a 
girl  existed  who  would  not  listen  to  a 
married  man.  Because  that  man's  wife 

274 


VANITY   SQUARE 

eliminated  and  perhaps  the  girl  might ! 
That  was  your  infernal  plot!" 

At  this  fresh  freshet  of  words,  Uxhill 
again  assisted,  but  now  as  one  does  at 
the  sight  of  monsters  emerging  in  night 
mare,  monsters  that  come,  grimace,  evap 
orate,  instantly  replaced  by  others  more 
monstrous  still.  Uxhill  could  not  stay 
them,  he  could  not  hide  from  them,  he 
could  not  even  cry  out.  He  was  dumb, 
only,  unfortunately  not  deaf.  But  the 
darkness  was  less  thick. 

"Yes,  that  was  your  plot.  Jones, 
whom  I  saw,  told  me  about  the  girl ; 
Nora  about  the  drug." 

"Told  you?"  said  Uxhill  mechanically. 

The  monsters  were  still  about  him. 
But  dawn  was  breaking.  Dream  may  be 
numbing  in  horror,  but  sometimes  the 
actual  is  worse.  Before  Uxhill  a  dream 
was  receding.  In  its  place  was  the  real. 

"She  told  you?"    he   repeated  in  the 
275 


VANITY   SQUARE 

same  absent,  mechanical  way,  occupied 
not  with  Nora,  but  the  real.  Yet,  in  his 
eyes  and  face  so  expressive  must  the  real 
have  been,  that  at  some  apperception  of 
it  suddenly  taking  shape,  Sayce  coerced, 
stepped  back. 

The  doctors  disagree.  Some  deny 
telepathy.  Others  declare  that  thoughts 
may  be  transmitted  without  signs,  ap 
paratus,  or  words,  through  the  sheer 
impact  of  their  force. 

Perhaps  they  may.  But  this,  at  least, 
is  certain.  Something  in  Uxhill's  eyes 
and  face  passed  from  him  to  Sayce. 
From  his  hand  the  poker  fell,  noisily, 
with  a  thud.  Affrightedly  he  started. 

"No,  no;  not  that!" 

His  hands  had  gone  to  his  head.  He 
seemed  to  be  pressing  at  what  had  got 
there. 

"  No,  no  ;  she  never  did.  Oh,  Uxhill," 
he  called.  "  A  girl  like  that !  You  don't 

276 


VANITY   SQUARE 

know  her.  She  could  not.  Don't  you 
see  that  she  could  not?  Why  should 
she?  Don't  you  see  that  she  had  no 
reason  at  all?" 

But,  here  a  very  curious  thing  hap 
pened.  Sayce  seemed  to  lose  control  of 
his  legs.  He  had  been  standing,  mono- 
loguing  abjectly  at  Uxhill.  Now,  how 
ever,  without  falling  or  any  effort  to  save 
himself,  but  precisely  as  though  his  legs 
had  melted  under  him,  he  sank  to  the 
floor. 

If  Uxhill  saw,  he  did  not  heed.  Some 
thing  else  that  had  fallen  was  occupying 
him,  the  weight  of  ignorance  that  had 
been  so  heavy,  in  place  of  which  now 
was  something  heavier  still.  He  could 
not  quite  shoulder  it.  Sayce,  who  was 
weaker,  it  had  felled. 

"But,  she  did!"  on  the  floor,  grovel 
ing  there,  the  old  man  cried. 

Truth  is  an  objective  phenomenon.     It 

277 


VANITY   SQUARE 

acts  in  us  and  on  us  like  a  chemical  pre 
cipitate.  Sayce  had  given  it  no  thought, 
and  before  him  it  stood  revealed.  The 
revelation,  which  ordinarily  would  have 
got  at  him  hours  before,  but  which  his 
great  love  interfering  had  delayed,  was 
crushing  him  now  with  its  blinding  force. 
The  attitude  of  Uxhill,  his  strange  qui 
escence  at  the  infamous  charge,  some 
gleam  of  the  real  which  he,  in  seeing, 
made  Sayce  intercept,  these  things  en 
countering  in  memory  incidents,  some 
overlooked,  others  dismissed ;  words 
uttered  by  Nora  accusing  not  Uxhill  but 
the  girl,  words  that  he  had  indignantly 
hushed,  —  these  things  combining  and 
from  the  chemistry  of  the  mind  there 
emerged  the  truth. 

"She  did,"  he  repeated,  crouching  in 
the  sudden  light.  "  Only  one  conversant 
with  the  minute  phenomena  of  dis 
ease  could  have  done  it.  Only  one  con- 

278 


VANITY   SQUARE 

versant  with  medicine  could  have  so 
graduated  the  doses  that  only  the  symp 
toms  of  anaemia  appeared.  She  knew. 
You  didn't." 

From  the  floor  he  crawled  to  a  chair, 
raised  himself  on  it  and  sat  nodding  at 
the  illusion  that  had  unmasked.  The 
illusion  had  been  to  him  dearer  than  life. 
He  had  lost  it. 

"  Yes,  she  knew.  She  forgot  that  I 
loved  her,  remembering  that  you  are 
rich." 

Then,  at  the  truth,  he  shuddered. 

Before  Uxhill,  too,  an  illusion  had  un 
masked,  dropped  its  domino,  stepped 
from  its  disguise,  stripped  itself  bare. 
In  one  of  the  fancy  balls  which  the  imagi 
nation  provides  for  days  he  had  been 
roaming.  But,  the  high  walls  of  the  revel 
had  crumbled.  From  the  ruins  a  leprous 
horror  oozed.  In  the  fetid  air  swung  the 
Why,  vomiting  its  rhymes  and  reasons, 

279 


VANITY  SQUARE 

suffocating  him  with  hideous  retrospects, 
through  which  zigzagged  the  height 
ening  horror  that  that  sweet  life  of 
Maud's  had  seemed  to  her  menaced, — 
and  by  him ! 

From  that  he  shrank,  and,  shrinking, 
turned,  picked  up  his  hat,  hurried  to  the 
hall,  to  the  snow,  to  the  waiting  cab. 

In  the  hall  the  servant  who  had  told 
him  Sayce  was  not  in  stood,  her  back  to 
the  wall.  Opening  the  brown  door,  he 
swung  it  after  him,  but,  through  it,  just  as 
it  was  closing,  a  sound  flew,  repercuted. 

Irresolutely,  his  hand  on  the  knob,  he 
listened. 

Before  him  on  the  box,  in  a  coat  of 
snow,  the  cabman  sat. 

"  Did  you  hear  that?"   Uxhill  asked. 

"It  was  a  gun,  I  guess." 

Uxhill  threw  back  the  door,  passed  in 
again  to  the  room  beyond,  where,  at  the 
threshold,  the  servant,  white  as  the  snow 

280 


VANITY   SQUARE 

in  the  street,  hovered,  without  courage 
to  enter. 

Within,  beneath  the  big  chandelier, 
Sayce  lay,  huddled  in  a  heap,  his  face 
covered  with  blood,  the  pistol  beside  him. 

Uxhill  hurried  forward,  knelt  to  his 
old  friend,  spoke  to  him,  touched  him. 
Rising  and  uncovering  his  head,  he 
turned  to  the  scared  white  maid. 

"Ring  for  the  police.  I  wish  I  could 
wait.  But  I  cannot." 

Again  through  the  hall  he  went,  got  to 
the  street,  told  the  cabman  to  drive  to 
the  Buckingham,  telling  him  to  drive 
quickly. 


281 


X. 


T^EATH  may  be  the  last  to  occur, 
but  it  may  also  be  the  least.  Many 
are  the  things  that  are  worse.  The 
abrupt  exit  of  Sayce,  vacating  existence 
in  the  crash  of  faith  demolished,  had 
stirred  Uxhill,  though  less  than  the  emo 
tions  preceding.  He  was  too  violently 
affected  already  to  regard  it  other  than 
as  an  inferior  horror,  attributable,  as 
was  all  else  that  had  occurred,  to  one 
who,  an  illusion  unmasking,  from  a 
saint  had  changed  into  a  saurian. 

In  every  affection  there  is  the  germ  of 
hate.  Hatred  is  but  love  reversed.  In 
Uxhill's  heart  a  hole  had  been  dug  and, 
the  contents  displaced,  such  was  the 
revulsion  that,  about  the  neck  of  the  girl 
where  he  had  thought  to  put  his  arms, 

282 


VANITY   SQUARE 

could  he  have  got  his  fingers  and  pressed 
them  there  till  her  reptile  ghost  emerged, 
he  would  have  died  of  delight. 

Where  she  was,  no  one,  perhaps,  but 
Sayce  could  have  told.  But,  wherever 
she  was,  the  noise  of  the  suicide  would 
follow  and  alone  to  her  tell  the  reason. 
No  doubt  it  was  by  way  of  precaution 
against  a  possible  charge,  which  the 
divorce  proceedings  might  provoke,  that 
already  she  had  taken  herself  to  some 
spot,  from  which,  once  the  proceedings 
effectual  and  the  divorce  decreed,  she 
could  descend  in  vampirish  beauty,  cap 
ture  him  with  her  Madonna  air  that  was 
lethal  as  the  Borgias,  coerce  him  with 
her  small,  thin  hand  that  was  steady 
as  the  Brinvilliers,  and  yield  to  him 
her  cool,  chaste  lips  that  were  malignant 
as  virus. 

At  the  memory  of  the  spell,  imper 
manent  yet  real,  which  those  lips  had 


VANITY   SQUARE 

exerted,  the  surer  knowledge  of  their 
nameless  shames  recurred,  and  it  was 
with  a  horror  of  them,  horror  of  her, 
horror  of  himself,  superposing  on  the 
still  deeper  horror  which  another  had 
undergone,  that  Uxhill  got  from  the  cab 
and  entered  the  hotel. 

At  the  office  he  did  not  stop  ;  he  knew 
the  way,  he  needed  no  herald,  and  up  in 
the  lift  that  had  taken  him  that  after 
noon  he  soared,  alighting  in  the  hall 
where  Nora  had  cowered,  and  down  it 
he  went  to  the  room  where  Mowgy  was 
sleeping.  Adjoining  it  was  another  where 
he  knew  that  Maud  must  be. 

A  moment  he  waited.  Like  Mowgy, 
perhaps,  she,  too,  was  sleeping,  and  if 
aroused,  might  come  to  the  door,  see  him, 
think  he  had  returned  to  finish  his  work, 
and,  shudderingly,  slam  and  bar  it. 

Even  so  he  must  bear  it.  At  last  he 
had  got  at  the  Why,  and  to  that,  surely, 

284 


VANITY   SQUARE 

if  through  the  door  itself,  she  would 
listen. 

A  moment  he  waited.  Then,  tenta 
tively,  he  knocked.  The  door  opened. 
Before  him  was  Maud,  her  head  lifted 
suddenly  in  that  attitude  a  deer  has  when 
surprised,  yet  without  alarm,  with  none 
of  the  dread  he  had  feared,  with  wonder 
merely.  Then  at  once  she  seemed  to 
understand.  One  hand  of  hers  was  con 
cealed  by  the  door.  The  other  that  hung 
at  her  side  moved  up  a  little  and  back, 
the  contraction  of  it  reiterating  the 
surprise  which  her  face  expressed. 

-Maud!" 

It  was  all  he  found,  but  in  it  he  put  his 
heart,  his  soul,  the  agony  of  his  great 
despair.  Again  he  uttered  it,  but  this 
time  he  was  in  the  room,  the  door  closing 
behind  him. 

"  Maud  !  Only  for  the  old  days'  sake, 
only  for  them,  give  me  a  moment  now." 

285 


VANITY   SQUARE 

He  was  eating  her  with  his  eyes,  and 
into  the  famine  of  them  she  peered. 
But  there  was  no  fear  in  her  own,  a 
query  merely,  a  perplexity  and  a  doubt. 

"All  the  afternoon  I  had  expected 
you,  and  when  you  came  to  Mowgy,  but 
not  to  me — " 

"  Don't  speak  to  me,  don't  answer  me, 
only  look  at  me  while  I  tell  you  that  if 
I  had  a  thousand  lives  I  would  give  each 
one  for  you." 

But,  she  was  looking  at  him,  her  lips 
half  parted,  the  glories  of  her  eyes  aglow. 
He  had  no  need  to  ask  her  that. 

"Each  one,"  he  repeated.  "Was 
there  nothing  to  say  it  to  you  ?  Nothing 
to  say  I  could  not  harm  you  ?" 

The  doubt  now  must  have  been  going, 
the  perplexity  and  query,  too,  for  to  those 
half-parted  lips  a  sad  little  smile  had 
come.  She  looked  away  and  then  at  him, 
and  then  away,  far  away,  once  more. 

286 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  Harm  that  comes  to  a  woman  from 
the  man  she  loves,  if  she  love  him 
enough,  she  can  endure.  But  had  you 
wished  to  harm,  would  you  have  gone  to 
find  me?  Would  you  have  been  ill 
because  you  could  not?  I  have  been 
very  wrong.  I  believed  that  you  and 
that  woman  were  trying  to,  and  without 
reproach  I  would  have  let  you,  but  I 
could  not  leave  Mowgy  to  be  killed  by 
her,  too.  Not  that  you  would  have  per 
mitted  that,  but  she  would  have  died,  as  I 
might  have." 

"I  know  it,"  he  answered.  "But,  if 
I  had  known  it  too  late,  if  you  had  died, 
died  thinking  me  in  league  with  that 
reptile,  the  torments  of  the  lowest  depths 
of  Dante's  seventh  hell  would  have  been 
myrrh  and  cassia  by  comparison  to  what 
I  should  have  suffered.  Yet,  how  you 
could  have  thought  me  capable  of  con 
ceiving  such  a  thing — " 

287 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"You  conceived  no  such  thing,"  she 
interrupted.  "  Yet,  why  I  thought  you 
had  you  can  explain  to  yourself  better 
than  I." 

"  Yes.  I  will  tell  you.  It  is  my  con 
fession — " 

Again  she  interrupted  him.  "  One 
that  I  will  not  hear.  That  you  had  an 
interest  in  that  woman  I  knew.  I  know, 
too,  it  has  gone.  You  would  not  be 
here  had  it  not.  But  what  it  was  I 
forbid  you  to  tell.  It  has  gone ;  let  it 
go.  Don't  speak  of  it.  Let  it  be 
a  thing  forgot.  I  won't  have  it  between 
us." 

The  room  was  comfortless  and  chill. 
Unconsciously  it  oppressed.  Uxhill 
moved  nearer  to  his  wife.  He  was  so 
close  to  her  now  that  he  caught  the  odor 
of  her  hair.  It  had  in  it  the  scent  of 
flowers  that  are  far  away. 

"  Nor  I.     I  will  have  nothing  between 

288 


VANITY   SQUARE 

us.  Nothing.  But  that  reptile  must  be 
fanged." 

"  Gerald  !  Who  is  there  to  do  it  but 
you  and  I  ?  It  would  be  public,  and  what 
a  legacy  for  that  child  !" 

' 'If  you  had  only  told  Sayce." 

With  the  same  sad  smile  she  an 
swered,  "  I  could  tell  no  one  anything 
that  reflected  on  you." 

His  hat  he  still  held ;  he  put  it  down, 
and  took  her  hand  in  his. 

"  Meanwhile  I  have  waded  from  hor 
ror  to  horror,  but  horror's  crown  of 
horror  is  that  you  could  have  thought 
me  capable  of  this  thing." 

"  Gerald,  forgive  me." 

"  No,  Maud,  forgive  me." 

"  Then  let  us  both  forgive."  For  a 
moment  she  hesitated.  Slowly  with  that 
motion  the  swan  has  she  turned  her  head 
aside.  "Are  you  still  planning  to  go  to 
Rhode  Island  ?" 

19  289 


VANITY   SQUARE 

"  I  promised  Mowgy  to  take  her  home 


to-morrow." 


Quickly  she  looked  up.  "And  you 
propose  to?" 

"  I  promised.  But,  she  stipulated  that 
you  should  go,  too.  Will  you  ?  Tell  me." 

Her  eyes  were  in  his.  From  his  hand 
her  own  went  up  about  him.  The  other 
joined  the  first.  They  made  a  necklace 
there. 

"I  will  tell  you  that  the  very  weariest 
river  winds  somewhere  safe  to  sea." 


290 


XL 


A  GERMAN,  whom  only  Frenchmen 
read,  said  that  happiness  is  illusory. 
But,  is  not  horror  more  so  ?  Pain,  it  may 
be,  is  necessary  for  the  equilibrium  of 
things,  It  may  be,  also,  that  evil  is  good 
which  we  do  not  understand.  Both,  per 
haps,  are  needful.  But,  not  horror.  Other 
wise  it  could  not  be  so  evanescent.  The 
horror  that  had  fastened  on  the  Uxhills 
dissipated  itself  as  horror  always  does,  for 
even  when  it  lingers  you  get  accustomed 
to  it  and  it  ceases  to  be  that. 

Since  the  crowning  horror  at  which 
Uxhill  had  protested,  a  year  and  a  day 
had  gone.  It  was  the  pre-Lenten  sea 
son,  which  in  Vanity  Square  is  the 
most  turbulent  of  all,  a  succession  of 
regal  dinners  and  royal  balls,  for  which, 

291 


VANITY   SQUARE 

from  overseas,  occasionally,  come  people 
of  mark. 

Among  others  were  the  Gemine,  Ux- 
hill's  sister  and  brother-in-law,  who, 
obligingly,  stopped  at  his  house. 

Mme.  Gemine,  Sally  as  she  was  gen 
erally  known,  had  not  been  in  the  States 
since  her  marriage,  and  latterly  she  had 
been  urgent  to  display  their  exuberance 
to  her  prince,  who,  however,  cared  very 
little  for  exuberant  things.  He  was 
good-looking,  as  many  Romans  are ;  he 
spoke  English  without  accent  as  many 
Romans  do,  and  he  approached  every 
thing  with  a  polite  remoteness  of  de 
meanor  which  was  due,  not  to  hauteur, 
but  timidity,  to  the  fear  of  the  fright  of 
being  bored. 

A  beautiful  day,  a  beautiful  book,  the 
rustle  of  leaves,  the  ripple  of  waters,  and 
no  pauper  could  have  been  more  content 
than  this  prince,  descended  from  a  Nero- 

292 


VANITY  SQUARE 

nian  consul.  For  his  sins,  the  sins  of 
some  anterior  life,  perhaps,  Sally  was 
essentially  worldly.  She  counted  that 
day  lost  on  which  she  had  not  spent  a 
great  deal  of  money,  seen  a  great  many 
people,  and  done  a  great  many  things, 
with  perspectives  of  more  extravagance 
and  activity  on  the  morrow.  It  was  her 
cross  that  Gemine  had  no  small  talk,  as 
it  was  his  that  she  had  no  manners, — 
common  crosses  that  made  them  an 
admirably  assorted  couple. 

In  Vanity  Square  they  had  now  been 
a  full  fortnight,  during  which,  had  such 
gargantuanism  been  possible,  each  night 
they  could  have  eaten  a  dozen  dinners, 
each  night  they  could  have  sat  in  as 
many  boxes,  attended  as  many  affairs. 
But  the  end  of  the  season  was  ap 
proaching.  On  the  morrow  they  were 
off  again,  this  time  to  the  Riviera. 

Now,    as    the    curtain    rises    on    the 

293 


VANITY   SQUARE 

epilogue  of  the  drama,  they  were  shortly 
going  on  to  the  opera,  pending  which, 
at  dinner,  they  were  seated  between 
Uxhill  and  Maud. 

The  room  was  unchanged,  the  table 
was  the  same,  even  the  servants  had  not 
altered.  Only,  as  is  usual  with  people 
who  have  been  in  hell,  Uxhill  and  Maud 
were  a  bit  sobered. 

"You  two  stick-in-the-muds,"  Sally 
was  disdainfully  remarking.  "You  do 
not  know  how  bourgeoise  you  are.  Is  it 
not  so,  Mario  ?  " 

Mario,  Prince  Gemine,  duke  of  Val- 
travaglia,  marquis  of  Correse,  lord  of 
San  Soria,  patrician  of  Sienna  and  of 
Rome,  was  eating  a  white  strawberry. 
He  nodded  absently.  He  agreed  with 
whatever  Sally  said,  with  what  any 
body  said.  It  saved  time,  labor,  and 
breath.  A  tempestuous  wife  is  very 
chastening. 

294 


VANITY  SQUARE 

"You  will  forget  how  to  talk  soon," 
Sally  continued. 

She  was  in  white  velvet.  On  her  head 
was  a  tiara.  About  her  jewels  gleamed. 
She  dazzled. 

"You  see,"  said  Maud,  in  her  low, 
sweet  voice,  "  Gerald  does  not  care  to 
travel." 

The  statement  was  exact.  Uxhill  had 
journeyed  enough, — to  lands  he  did  not 
wish  to  revisit. 

Maud  was  in  silk  the  color  of  pumpkin. 
So  far  from  being  bourgeoise,  as  always, 
she'  was  charming. 

"  Fiddlesticks  !  he  does  not  know  what 
he  wants ;  you  either.  It  is  positively 
indecent." 

But  at  that  Uxhill  protested. 

"  Here,  Sally,  stop  calling  names." 

"Shut  up!"  was  the  lady's  prompt 
reply.  She  was  smoking. 

"Shut  up!"    she   repeated.      "Maud, 

295 


VANITY   SQUARE 

you  are  boss  in  these  diggings.  Tell 
your  people  to  pack  and  come  with  us 
to-morrow.  In  Monte  Carlo  you  and 
Gerald  will  have  something  for  your 
money.  In  April  we  can  go  up  to  the 
Rue  de  la  Paix,  from  there  over  the 
Channel,  and  in  June  I  will  ship  you 
back." 

"Why  in  June?"  Uxhill  asked.  "If 
we  are  there  then,  you  might  let  us  stay." 

"  Oh  !  as  for  that,  stay  as  long  as  you 
like.  But,  in  June,  Mario  and  I  go  to  the 
Finsburys." 

"Are  they  nice?"  Maud,  who  had 
never  heard  of  the  Finsburys  before, 
inquired. 

"  She  is  a  dear.  You  would  love  her. 
Gerald  would,  too.  But  not  in  the  same 
way.  I  know  him.  I  know  him  of  old. 
Besides,  I  have  observed  her  effect  on 
Mario.  Haven't  I,  Mario?" 

"Lady  Finsbury,"   said  the  last  of  the 

296 


VANITY   SQUARE 

Gemine,  "is  the  most  beautiful  woman  I 
ever  saw.  But,  her  conversation, — "  the 
prince  made  an  almost  imperceptible 
gesture, — "no,  her  conversation  is  less 
exalting." 

"  Englishwomen  generally  are  rather 
heavy  on  hand,"  Uxhill,  with  an  air  of 
providing  information,  remarked. 

"But  she  is  not  English,"  Sally  re 
sumed.  "  Finsbury's  first  wife  was  a 
colonial  dwarf  or  a  giant,  I  forget  which, 
but  something  impossible.  Finsbury,  I 
know,  had  one  child  by  her  and  a  great 
deal  to  put  up  with.  He  told  me  all 
about  it,  and  made  me  promise  not  to  tell. 
He  behaved,  too,  like  such  a  gentleman. 
He  wore  crepe  on  his  hat  for  her  for 
three  whole  months." 

"That  was  very  gentlemanly,"  said 
Uxhill.  "  But  who  consoled  him  ?" 

"  The  most  beautiful  woman  that  Mario 
ever  saw.  I  don't  think  her  as  extra- 

297 


VANITY   SQUARE 

ordinary  as  all  that.  But,  she  certainly 
is  a  dear.  Finsbury's  wife  adored  her. 
She  was  a  friend  of  hers,  and  when  she 
fell  ill  she  nursed  her  devotedly.  They 
were  compatriots.  The  dwarf  or  giant 
Marchioness  of  Finsbury  was  a  Canadian. 
So  is  this  one.  This  one  is  the  daughter 
of  a  brewer." 

Sally  looked  at  her  prince.  "  Her 
father  was  a  brewer,  was  he  not,  Mario  ?" 

"A  bacteriologist." 

"  Well,  something  of  the  kind.  They 
made  him  a  peer  I  know.  Baron  Six- 
mith,  that  was  it.  Gerald  !  Do  be  care 
ful  !  A  little  more  and  that  glass  would 
have  gone  all  over  my  dress,  and  I  have 
no  time  to  change  it.  By  the  way,  what 
time  is  it?" 

Sally,  as  she  spoke,  turned  to  Patmore. 

"  Is  the  carriage  here?" 

4 'Yes,  your  highness,"  replied  the 
butler  to  whom  "  excellency"  was,  per- 

298 


VANITY  SQUARE 

haps,  un  -  English,  and,  therefore,  incor 
rect. 

"  Now,  Patmore,  don't  be  highnessing 
me.  In  this  free-and-easy  place  Madam 
is  enough.  Maud,"  she  continued, 
"  Mario  and  I  must  run.  You  won't  mind, 
will  you  ?"  she  added,  getting  from  her 
chair  as  she  spoke.  "Why,  what  on 
earth  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  You  are  as 
pale  as  a  ghost." 

"  Damnation,  Patmore  !"  exclaimed  Ux- 
hill,  rising  nervously,  upsetting  a  chair 
as  he  did  so.  "You  keep  this  room 
hotter  than  Tophet.  Open  a  window." 

Maud  looked  up  at  Sally  and  at 
tempted  to  smile.  She  did  not  succeed 
very  well,  however.  Her  under  lip 
was  trembling.  But,  she  managed  to 
speak. 

11  For  a  moment  I  was  a  bit  dizzy.  I 
am  quite  right  now." 

With  manifest  concern,   Sally  contem- 

299 


VANITY   SQUARE 

plated  her.  "  I  thought  you  were  going 
to  faint.  If  you  like,  I  won't  go." 

With  the  same  little,  tremulous  look, 
Maud  shook  her  head. 

In  the  protest  of  it,  Uxhill  joined. 

"No,  Sally,  it  is  only  the  heat;  it  af 
fected  me.  Come,  little  girl,"  he  added 
to  Maud,  "  let's  see  them  off." 

As  Sally  and  her  prince  passed  into 
the  drawing-room,  he  whispered,  "  Bear 
up." 

But,  presently,  when  on  to  the  opera 
the  others  had  gone,  putting  an  arm 
about  her,  he  led  her  to  that  sofa  from 
which,  long  before,  she  had  kissed  her 
hand  at  him,  and  then,  sauntering  down 
the  room,  had  played  the  slow,  sweet  air 
that  told  of  lovers  who  are  ceasing  to 
love. 

"Try  and  forget  it." 

"  But,  Gerald,  how  can  I  ?  Besides, 
you  were  right.  We  should  have  done 

300 


VANITY   SQUARE 

something.  Now  she  has  killed  that 
man's  wife,  and  it  is  our  fault." 

"  No,  dear,  it  is  you  who  were  right. 
Our  first  concern  was  Mowgy.  By  com 
parison  with  her,  what  is  the  loss  of  a 
woman  of  whose  existence  we  have 
learned  only  through  hearing  that  she  is 
dead?  Even  otherwise  justice  is  not 
ours.  True  justice  is  pity.  It  was  in 
that  spirit  we  let  her  go." 

"And  Sayce,  too,  Gerald.  Poor 
Sayce !" 

4 'There,  again,  you  see.  We  could  not 
have  prevented  that  either.  That  reptile 
was  his  ideal.  He  shot  himself  not 
because  he  had  lost  her,  but  because  she 
happened  to  be  different  from  what  he 
thought.  The  ideal  is  a  picture  which 
we  paint  with  our  heart's  blood,  and 
we  are  not  apt  to  feel  pleasantly  toward 
anyone  who  destroys  it.  Another  man 
might  have  shot  her, — he  shot  him- 

301 


VANITY   SQUARE 

self.      Suicide    is    merely    assassination 
driven  in." 

"It  does  all  seem  too  terrible,  though." 

"  The  more  reason  why  you  should  for 
get  it.  Sensible  people  think  only  of 
agreeable  things,  and  disagreeable  things 
they  never  mention." 

"  I  fear  I  am  not  sensible,  then." 

"  I  know  I  did  not  use  to  be.  Do  you 
remember  the  night  I  told  you  to  add  up 
zeros  ?" 

"I  remember  I  could  not." 

"  Nor  I.  I  did  not  know  their  meaning. 
I  have  learned  since.  They  mean  eter 
nity, — the  eternity  which  I  once  thought 
had  begun  between  us,  and  which  I  know 
now  can  never  commence.  Yes,  zeros  rep 
resent  eternity,  but  they  represent  chaos 
as  well.  I  have  learned  that,  too.  But, 
Maud,  I  have  learned  something  further." 

He  paused  and  looked  at  her.  In  the 
pause  she  looked  at  him. 

302 


VANITY   SQUARE 

''Yes?"  she  murmured. 

"  I  have  learned  that  out  of  chaos  issue 
stars,  and,  out  of  anguish,  men." 

Hours  later,  when  Sally  and  her  prince 
returned,  they  were  still  seated  on  that 
sofa. 

"I  have  no  idea,  you  know,"  Mme. 
Gemine,  entering  and  perceiving  them 
there,  exclaimed,  "  how  you  two  tiresome 
people  can  be  so  tiresome  as  to  do  noth 
ing  but — " 

"  But,"  the  prince  approaching  with  his 
polite  remoteness  of  demeanor,  continued 
for  her,  "to  do  nothing  is  less  fatiguing 
than  doing  something,  at  least,"  he 
added  with  an  almost  imperceptible  ges 
ture,  "  in  society  as  conducted  here." 

Uxhill,  rising,  helped  his  sister  with  a 
wonderful  cloak  of  purple  and  gold  which 
she  wore,  nodding,  as  he  did  so,  very 
appreciatively  at  Gemine. 

"  Because  people  are  not  up  to  some 

303 


VANITY   SQUARE 

devilishness,  it  does  not  follow  at  all  that 
they  need  be  alarmingly  dull.  Only,  in 
this  part  of  the  planet,  it  will  be  a  few 
hundred  years  before  that  fact  is  gener 
ally  diffused.  I  know  it  took  a  miracle 
to  get  it  through  my  head." 

Sally,  who  had  seated  herself,  was 
lighting  a  cigarette. 

"  Now,  Gerald,  that  does  sound  inter 
esting.  Tell  us  all  about  it,  and  how  it 
occurred." 

But,  to  this  day,  neither  Sally  nor  any 
body  else,  for  that  matter,  save  Uxhill 
and  Maud,  have  ever  known  the  true 
story  of  the  miracle  in  Vanity  Square. 

THE   END 


304 


THE  WIFE  OF 
THE  SECRETARY  OF  STATE 

BY  ELLA  MIDDLETON  TYBOUT 
Author  of  "PoKETOWN  PEOPLE." 

Illustrated.     12  mo.      Cloth,  $1.50. 


"The story  holds  one's  interest  to  the  end." 

— Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"Will  gratify  the  admirers  of  literary  sensation." 

— Pittsburgh  Times. 

1 '  A  strong  and  entertaining  novel  of  Washington 
society,  of  a  devoted  wife  with  an  unhappy  past,  of 
plotting  for  state  papers,  of  the  unexpected  final 
chivalry  of  a  Russian  count,  of  other  love  interests. 
A  book  to  be  read  at  a  sitting,  tender  and  true  to  life. ' ' 

— Chicago  Record- Herald. 

< '  The  author  of  '  Poketown  People  '  has  bettered 
her  best.  Her  novel  contains  in  abundance  every 
quality  that  mades  for  excellent  reading.  Get  it  quick 
and  read  it  slowly." —  Washington  Mirror. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


THE  IMAGE   IN    THE   SAND 

A  Love-Story  Dealing  with  the  Occult. 
BY  E.   F.   BENSON 

I2mo.      Cloth) 


1 '  The  Image  in  the  Sand ' '  is  a  book  that  will  en 
tertain  every  novel-reader  and  provoke  discussion.  It 
speaks  emphatically  for  the  development  of  Mr. 
Benson's  powers  as  a  writer,  though  it  also  emphasizes 
that  lightness  of  touch  and  happy  faculty  for  sketching 
character  in  outline  which  have  marked  his  several 
former  books. 

"Spiritualism,  hypnotism,  demoniac 
possession,  white  and  black  magic, 
Oriental  theosophy — all  are  found  among 
the  component  parts  of  this  tale.  The 
denouement  is  decidedly  original  and 
highly  imaginative.  Decidedly,  'The 
Image  in  the  Sand '  will  not  fail  to  make 
a  strong  appeal  to  every  one  who  has  any 
love  for  the  marvellous  and  the  unknown 
— or  who  appreciates  a  very  well-written 
story. ' '  — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

' '  The  author  of  '  Dodo  '  has  written  a 
'  thriller. '  It  is  a  spiritualistic  story.  Mr. 
Benson  sets  part  of  his  story  in  the  East, 
and  part  in  London,  and  tells  it  in  a 
manner  to  keep  the  reader  wide  awake 
and  interested  to  the  end." 

—  Globe,  N.    Y. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


THE    VORTEX 

BY  THOMAS  McKEAN 
I2mo.     Decorated  Cloth,  $1.50 


The  love-story  is  laid  in  Italy,  and  has  to  do  with 
the  battle  of  two  personalities.  The  leading  characters 
are  drawn  with  a  firmness  and  skill  that  will  interest 
every  reader. 

'  *  Mr.  McKean  gets  enviably  far  away 
from  the  smart  novel  that  has  the  divorce 
court  as  its  finale  and  the  trite  conclusion. 
A  powerful  moral  novel,  .  .  .  that  has 
little  to  do  with  the  frivolities. ' ' 

—  Washington    Club  Fellow. 


THE    CHALLONERS 

BY  E.  F.   BENSON. 


I2mo.      Cloth,  $1.50 

"When  we  remembered  that  E.  F. 
Benson  was  the  author  of  'Dodo,'  a 
book  about  which  every  one  was  talking 
a  few  years  ago,  we  expected  to  find  that 
he  had  given  us  something  pretty  good 
in  '  The  Challoners.'  We  read  it,  breath 
lessly  and  absorbedly,  and  then  we  were 
of  the  opinion  that  he  had  given  us  a 
novel  that  is  better  than  the  book  which 
made  him  famous." 

— Newark   Adertiser. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  PETER 

BY  ROSA  NOUCHETTE  CAREY 


I2mo.      Cloth,  $1.50 


Perhaps  no  woman  now  writing  has  proven  so 
generally  popular  among  young  women  as  Miss  Carey, 
and  all  that  need  be  said  of  her  new  book  is  that  it  will 
realize  every  expectation  aroused  by  ' '  A  Passage 
Perilous"  and  "The  Highway  of  Fate." 

1 '  For  girls  who  have  outgrown  childish 
literature  Miss  Carey's  books  are  most 
desirable.  They  give  wholesome  and  pure 
views  of  life  in  a  very  interesting  and  en 
tertaining  manner." — Portland  Press. 

"Miss  Carey' s  latest  book  is  along  the 
lines  that  have  already  made  her  beloved 
by  thousands  of  readers.  A  spirited 
story  of  intense  human  interest. ' ' 

— The  Bookseller,    Chicago. 

1 '  A  pretty  romance  that,  like  all  of  its 
predecessors,  may  be  characterized  as 
sweet  and  wholesome.  The  story  is 
written  in  Miss  Carey's  own  pleasant, 
restful  style,  and  is  one  of  her  best." 

— Louisville  Courier-Journal. 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA 


THE    RAVANELS 

BY  HARRIS  DICKSON 
With  four  illustrations  by 

SEYMOUR   M.    STONE 

izmo.      Cloth,  $1.50 


A  novel  of  cleverness,  with  a  capital  plot,  sur 
prising  climaxes,  and  a  love-story  of  unusual 
sweetness. 

' '  The  developments  of  the  story  are 
unexpected  and  very  dramatic,  the 
characters  are  drawn  with  much  clever 
ness,  and  there  is  a  love-story  of  unusual 
beauty. ' '  — Nashville  American. 

' '  The  tragedy  of  the  story  is  admir 
ably  mellowed  with  its  pathos.  The 
characters  are  skillfully  drawn  and  a  gen 
uine  depth  of  interest  is  aroused  which 
never  flags  until  the  book  ends,  amid  all 
its  sorrows,  with  happiness  and  cheer. ' ' 
— New  York  Times. 

' '  No  son  or  daughter  of  the  South 
who  loves  her  traditions  and  ideals  can 
read  *  The  Ravanels '  inappreciatively.  . 
.  Its  thrilling  climaxes  and  extra 
ordinary  situations  hold  the  interest  and 
stamp  the  work  a  success. ' ' 

— Advertiser,  Newark,  N.  J. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,    PHILADELPHIA 


BACCARAT 

BY   FRANK   DANBY 

AUTHOR     OF     "PIGS     IN     CLOVER" 


I2mo.     Six  illustrations  in  color.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  story  of  a  young  wife  left  by  her  husband 
at  a  Continental  watering  place  for  a  brief  summer 
stay,  who,  before  she  is  aware,  has  drifted  into  the 
feverish  current  of  a  French  Monte  Carlo. 

A  dramatic  and  intense  book  that  stirs  the  pity. 
One  cannot  read  "Baccarat"  unmoved. 

"The  finished  style  and  unforgettable 
story,  the  living  characters,  and  compact 
tale  of  the  new  book  show  it  to  be  a  work 
on  which  care  and  time  have  been  ex 
pended. 

"Much  more  dramatic  than  her  first 
novel,  it  possesses  in  common  with  it  a 
story  of  deep  and  terrible  human  inter 
est."  — Chicago  Tribune. 

J.   B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,    PHILADELPHIA 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


AR   8     1940 


^EC'D  ILD 
MAR  24  198 

.cm.  **  ll 

PI"  19S3 


l-100m-9,'47(A5702sl6)476 


M512452 


,y,n£i.5fR!<EILEY  LIBRARIES 


